The Last Guardians
by lillelouis
Summary: The story of how King Edmund the Just, Ruler of Narnia, lost half his ear and gained nine new siblings. Mainly book 'verse. Thank you to rosebudmelissa for taking on the challenge of betaing this entire story so long after it's been posted. And thank you to all from the Western Woods. You know why.
1. Chapter 1: Anger

**Summary:** _The story of how King Edmund the Just, Ruler of Narnia, lost half his ear and gained nine new siblings. Fourth attempt at a stroll through Narnia_.

**Disclaimer:** A lot of things are mine. My couch, my computer - well she has a mind of her own sometimes, but I'm pretty sure she's mine. The Chronicles and all its characters are not. They are all the property of one C. S. Lewis. So anything you recognize is his, or electrum's (she's been kind enough to lend me some of her characters and I've tried not to abuse them too much). Everything you don't recognize is most likely mine.

**Second disclaimer:** Speaking of other fanfiction writers - one disclaimer I've seen a couple places already: I've read so many fanfics that I may unintentionally have let them inspire me. No conscious plagiarism, mind you. But slip-ups do happen. If you see anything blaringly obvious, let me know in a review ;) Vague mentions of events from Lirenel's story _Terror Gold_ – if you're not familiar with the title you should go and look it up immediately. Definitely worth reading.

**Graciously beta'ed by rosebudmelissa. Every scrap of awesomeness is hers. All mistakes are mine**.

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><p>The Last Guardians<p>

Chapter 1: Anger

One by one, the soldiers slaughtered his men. Edmund was forced to watch. It had started out as such a simple mission. Ride West. Find the families that had been raided. Take them back to the Cair for proper protection and debriefing. There had never been talk of seeking out the troublemakers. Never any plans to engage the raiders. Not _yet, _at least. But, Edmund had managed to mess the mission up so gloriously.

They hadn't been able to find any remaining Narnians to bear witness to the raids. They had found the bodies of two Narnians east of the Telmar River. That should have been his first warning to not underestimate the threat. But he had followed protocol and sent a Bat courier to inform Susan whilst he and his guard continued West. Susan was the only one of his siblings still at Cair Paravel. Peter was engaged with disturbances to the North. _Again_. Lucy was on a diplomatic mission to Galma because they had heard rumors that someone had tried to assassinate the duke. The Duke, considering it a point of honor not to trouble his monarchs with matters he percieved as small, claimed that all was well. When a second notice arrived at Cair Paravel, informing them that someone had _again_ tried to assassinate the duke, they had decided one of them had to go and investigate. Edmund and Lucy flipped for it. Lucy won.

By the time the raids were reported to the Cair, Peter had been gone a week and five days, and Lucy three days. Susan was busy trying to keep the country running smoothly with only herself and Edmund available to attend to matters of state. And then the message came, it's final phrases saying: _"Families are being raided in the West, Your Majesties._ _Please send help."_

Edmund had thought that perhaps a divine hand had reached down to make sure he didn't skimp on his royal responsibilities. The West was _his_ to protect as Susan had lovingly reminded him. She had brushed his hair back as she had done years ago, when he was a child. She had just given him a sincere albeit forced smile, when a Calormene ambassador burst into the room. Realizing he had indeed interrupted the King and Queen, he quickly apologized in mortification and backed out of the room.

Susan had looked at him and asked if he wanted to trade duties.

He really couldn't say yes.

So Edmund left. He and a company of seventeen headed out into the Western Wild. The unusual number had been a result of most the soldiers leaving for the North with Peter. _Aslan_, seven years of negotiations and the giants were _still_ threatening war and violating borders. Edmund couldn't say he blamed his brother for taking so many soldiers. Alright, he was still a little upset that he had so brazenly taken seventy percent of the Royal guard to deal with a matter of diplomatic relations. Of course, _diplomatic_ usually meant bombardment across fortifications when giants were involved. But still. With the advancements in war machinery, an open confrontation should have been easily avoidable.

Peter didn't agree and a huge argument had ensued. It had reached a point where Oreius had interfered. The kings had been separated for the evening and Peter had calmly resumed his planning. Edmund had sulked, but said no more on the matter. Perhaps he was blaming his brother. He was blaming himself as well. Blaming the Telmarines that had killed his men. Even blaming Aslan a little.

He wondered what the Great Lion had planned now. Now that he was alone and in the hands of his enemies. They had traveled far already. Only one night had passed since the slaughter of his Royal guards. Already they had reached Caldron Pool, the magnificent spillway that marked the border into Telmar. Uncharted mountain-country. He knew what would happen once they reached their intended destination. He would be killed. They would probably throw a ceremony to mark the occasion as well. He absentmindedly wondered why he wasn't more upset about his impending death. But, perhaps it shouldn't surprise him.

All he felt was rage. It burned through his veins, through his every thought, leaving room for no other feelings. He had woken up last night to the sound of his own screams. Horrible dreams of the soldier they had slaughtered like an animal and not the Animal it was.

They had strung up a Bull in a tree and slit his throat. They had proceeded to skin him while his last drops of life soaked the ground below and then they had carved him into pieces for easy transport. They would eat him for dinner, they announced with callous laughter.

The Telmarine soldiers had mocked him as he screamed in outrage over the atrocious crime. He had cried and threatened until his voice gave out, and had continued to glare silently at them. The King's silence was more unnerving as it turned out, and he had continued to do so until all had fallen into an uneasy silence. It was satisfying to know he still held some power over them. Narnian fire was not to be trifled with. The Telmarines knew that after their last failed attempt to grab it for themselves. They had slaughtered mercilessly and been burned in return.

His brother had sworn that he would never again lose his temper like that. Edmund had been scared of him in the light of what had happened. He wondered what his brother would do if they actually succeeded in killing one of the sovereigns. How mad Peter would become once he learned the news of Edmund's death. By the hands of Telmarines no less. Last time Edmund had been able to walk away. It didn't look like he would get the chance this time.

They stopped at Caldron Pool for one night. Arguments erupted among the men over which route to take and Edmund too, wondered how they planned to traverse the mountains. He was secretly pleased when a fistfight broke out between two Telmarine men, but contained the joy.

It didn't matter that they were no longer watching him. He wouldn't get far even if they untied him. He could hardly walk. Climbing would be impossible unless they dragged him.

Somewhere along his inner dialogue he must've let a glimmer of mockery show because without warning the arguments became focused on him. He smirked when the squabbling Telmarines glared at him and made their way over. Anger bubbled in his stomach, but he barked out a laugh when they threatened to kill him then and there. Leave him for the lions. The thought of being eaten by a lion filled him with bitter humor. Was that Aslan's great plan for his future?

As it turned out, the Telmarines didn't much appreciate his cavalier take on the situation and quickly took out their anger on him.

He had cried out hoarsely when the first lashes hit. The whip left deep marks in his skin, despite his leather tunic. He cries turned to curses when they took the Bull and stuck it on a spit. He'd had a name, Edmund thought. He'd had a family.

At the sight of his sadness the Telmarines left him be. He wept as they feasted merrily on a Creature he had once called friend.

Now he was numb. In every sense but physically. He was numb to the point of death.

As night came, his muscles stiffened. He imagined he could hear them crackling whenever he moved. It was colder than usual for this time of year. The darkness brought mist and cold with it. It was always misty near the mountains. Especially to the north. _Peter._ Edmund shivered and whimpered in the darkness. He ignored the tears that slipped down his cheeks. It was too early to cry. There was too much to do. He had friends to avenge. Once each and every one of their murderers was dead, he would try his very best to escape. He would cry once he was back home. Safe in the arms of siblings who loved him.

Morning came. It turned out the soldiers hadn't been worried about climbing. Merely waiting for orders. A runner arrived early in the morning. He delivered orders that the Just King was to be brought to the Air Castle. Edmund had never heard of it. Through the haze of pain he managed to get a little worried. Since when had the Telmarines become so organized? All he had ever heard of were little enclaves and nomadic societies ruled by patriarchs. He had never heard of any castles. Never any established pecking order. Telmarine gypsies had visited the Cair on occasion, bringing with them strange instruments and knickknacks. They usually came in the summer, playing music and dancing in front of roaring fires.

Lucy always loved their visits.

It was unlikely that any Telmarine would ever step onto Narnian soil again after this. He gave a growl that turned to a whimper when rough hands heaved him off the ground. They were ready to leave. The sun was halfway to its zenith and they had already finished breakfast. Two rabbits. It was unclear whether or not they had been Talking Beasts, but at this point Edmund would assume the worst.

He was pulled along a path. It had been cleverly concealed and was little more than a deer track. The Telmarines were exchanging jokes and laughter, thinking about warm beds and spiced wine. If Edmund had his way they would never make it that far. He only needed to find an opening. The pain was becoming a steady companion instead of a hindrance, fueling his anger and lending him strength. He needed a weapon. Any weapon would do. He would dig out their hearts with a spoon if one was presented to him.

No weapon presented itself, nor did any opportunities for escape.

Three days of travel up hidden mountain trails had left him utterly drained. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but had begun. . . _seeping_. It was likely that they were infected. They had started to smell. A couple of the Telmarines had commented on it already, but none of them really seemed to care. Edmund was beyond caring as well. He was miserable all over. If death wanted him, it could come for him itself.

The miles vanished beneath his feet. The country remained forested. The air was full of birdcalls he didn't recognize and smells he couldn't identify. A strange fever was washing over him. It came in waves that made him stumble. He had just caught himself after nearly falling on his face when a loud roar ripped through the silence. A familiar roar. One he had feared since the first day he heard it. It was a unique sound, produced by a sharp exhale through the nasal cavity of an ogre. Some referred to it as "snorting," or even "snoring" but Edmund had always preferred "roaring". The sound had certain qualities in common with the roar of a tiger.

He and Peter had hunted dumb tigers once. Their roar had a strange ability to paralyze you. To activate the fight or flight instinct. The ogres' roar did the same. Luckily Edmund usually became frightfully good at self-preservation under such circumstances. At that moment he was honestly unsure what his response would be should such a situation arise.

The sound echoed from the mountain sides. He looked up sharply. It bounced from one side to the other until it sounded as if they were surrounded by thousands of ogres. The Telmarines reacted like trained soldiers. They quickly formed a rough circle around Edmund. Spears pointed towards the threat on one side of the circle, swords-men in the other half behind Edmund, and archers in a ring closest to him. He quickly realized that this was a normal occurrence for them. He wondered how often ogre raiding parties ravaged these woods.

How many innocent people were killed each year because the Narnian soldiers had been too busy to patrol these woods? He felt guilty until he refocused on the men around him. _They_ could rot here for all he cared. Murderers each and every one of them. A wave of dizziness made him sway. He was lost in his dizziness and rage when the first assault came.

"MAN-FLESH!" came the greedy roar from the lead ogre. He was the largest of the group and also appeared to be the fastest.

Edmund knelt in the midst of the hub of soldiers, his thoughts hazy, and tried to remember protocol. _Draw your weapon_. His fingers were tingling. He looked down and saw why. Leather straps were lashed tightly around them. He needed a knife to cut himself free. The first wave of ogres crashed into the first line of soldiers. The second line fell back. One man bumped into Edmund and nearly knocked him over. But the young king smiled when he spotted a dagger on the Telmarine's belt.

He plucked it, the Telmarine none the wiser. His vision was blurring, but it didn't matter. He was almost free. The binds fell to the ground just as the second wave of ogres crashed into the reformed formation. Most of them had moved to the front, leaving their backs wide open and an unguarded escape route for Edmund as well. Stumbling and slipping over rocks, he ran. He ripped through the bonds on his hands and pushed himself to run faster.

He sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him. A boost of adrenalin helped when he needed more agility. He could hear the screams of humans being ripped apart by beasts. He hoped and prayed with everything that was in him, that they wouldn't follow. Neither the humans nor the ogres.

They were far enough North that the evenings were long. The sun stayed in the sky far longer than it would have in Calormen. He stumbled along unfamiliar forest trails in the hopes that he would recognize some landmark. He had run south at first and then turned east after what he surmised was roughly three miles. The landscape sped by him in a rush.

The air cooled as the sun sank. There was still light in the sky, but it no longer reached the ground. His fever was burning and his back was aching with each step – a deep ache that vibrated with each jolt and rippled all the way down his legs. He praised Aslan that the Telmarines hadn't broken his legs after they caught him. They were known for it. It was the simplest way to ensure hostages didn't escape.

But at the rate he was going, he was liable to twist an ankle on the treacherous rocks or hidden roots. He didn't care. Every step he took was already killing him. What did one more injury matter?

The first stars appeared. He navigated by the Northern Cross and made sure to keep it on his left. Home was but a few days walk. All he had to do was make it to Narnia. He was sure Susan had been alerted by now and had mobilized some kind of search and rescue for him. Soon they would find the mutilated remains of his former guard and if Peter heard word of the attack, Edmund was sure he would mobilize. Not just the guard, but the entire army.

A weaker man would have stopped hours ago. He would have caved when the fever caused him to hallucinate. He was sure that men were following him in the shadows. He couldn't hear anything besides his own breathing, but every once in a while he saw a shadow slip behind a tree. It was unnerving, but only made the Just King push harder. Run faster.

Sweat was pouring down his back and burning the angry cuts. Each drop that slithered over infected skin was like white hot metal. It wasn't until the sun had dipped completely below the horizon that he heard the first roar.

It chilled him to the bone. He froze with his breath wheezing in and out of overworked lungs. The ogres had found him. He was sure of it. But he heard no war cries or calls for fell soldiers to attack. He only heard a an occasional solitary roar. It led him to believe that most of the ogres had been slaughtered by the Telmarines. He had hoped they would finish each other off.

The roar sounded again. Closer this time. He increased his pace, not caring about stealth. All he had was that measly dagger. His sword had been confiscated after the attack. So had the shield he always wore on his back and the kneebraces of wrought steel, his fifteenth birthday gift from Lucy.

He hopped over a boulder and twisted his foot on a small rock behind it. His sharp cry echoed through the quiet woods. And with that, he knew he had alerted the ogre to his presence. He again increased his pace, though his ankle nearly buckled under his weight. With a glance back, he slipped again.

This time he hit a rock, face first. He heard the sickening crack as his own skull connected with granite. Then, as everything was swimming out of focus, a growl. Close by. A massive shadow blocked out the light of the stars. And with his last vestiges of strength, he prayed that his siblings would forgive him when he saw them once more in Aslan's country.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> First chapter. Let me know what you thought. The story is a long one and fourteen chapters have already been written. Nr. 2 coming soon...


	2. Chapter 2: Fever

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, never will.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Fever<strong>

He woke up with a massive, throbbing headache. He groaned and tried to turn, but found he couldn't. With sluggish movements he reached up and realized he was strapped to a gurney.

"Lie still." a warm, deep voice ordered.

He groaned and followed the command without further thought. He was moving. Being carried as far as he could tell. When the pain in his head became manageable he felt the fever. It was raging through his veins like liquid fire. Making him shiver one moment and sweat the next. His back was hurting as well, but hardly noticeable through the headache. He must have gagged, because the next he knew, he was tilted to the side. He vomited violently and when the spasms made his ripped muscles clench, cursed .

A few of his companions chuckled sympathetically.

He was tipped back and placed on the ground. Two shapes appeared above him. There was light in the sky. Not the fiery orange that usually signified sunsets, but a pale blue that suggested sunrise. Stars were still twinkling daintily above them.

"Will he make it to Zoren's?" the man from before asked.

"I don't know. He's weak- _dying_ if we don't get there, that's for sure." a woman answered. She had a nice voice.

"Listen, kid. Can you hear me?" the man demanded. He leaned in and blocked out the pretty view.

Edmund groaned.

"What's your name?"

"Ed-. . .mmmmn'd." he sighed. He swallowed to force down the taste of his own sick.

"Let's call you Ed for now, eh?" He could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm Romel. You're safe here."

Edmund nodded weakly.

"Listen to me, kid. You're going to be better soon."

He felt a cool hand on his cheek and leaned into it.

"Just hang on." And to the woman he said, "He's burning up. We need to move faster."

There was a general consensus among the people around him. They picked him up off the ground and started moving again. This time at a faster pace. Running. Ed was being bounced around on his stretcher like a doll. He couldn't have raised a finger to defend himself and knew there was little he could do but wait it out.

A while later – though he wasn't sure how much – he heard new voices. Strange voices speaking in a strange language. He didn't recognize it, though it did sound a bit like Spanish. He wondered how he even knew what Spanish _was_. The word brought up associations of dark-skinned people with sparkling laughter.

He was moved. The cool, fresh air of the mountains was replaced by a smoky tent. People were hovering over him. One of them was the man from before. Edmund recognized his voice and his soothing presence. He began twitching when strange hands grabbed him and forced something disgusting down his throat. He was flipped onto his stomach and Romel returned.

"Shh. Be still."

Edmund obeyed. His shirt was removed. A few gasps sounded around the tent. More speaking in languages he couldn't hope to understand.

"Ed, were you tortured?" his new best friend asked. He was close; his breath was cool on Edmund's cheek and neck.

Ed didn't know what to reply. _Had_ he been tortured? He tried to think back, but only saw flashes of previous events that made no sense. "Dun'no. . ." he sighed. Even that small reply cost him precious energy.

A woman pulled Romel back. More strange words. Romel spoke her language fluently. As perfectly as he spoke English. It sounded like they were arguing. A presence returned to Ed's side. "They have to close the wounds." Romel said. His voice was soft with worry.

Ed wanted to tell him to relax and have a cup of tea. It would all be better soon. Someone would come. Pour a little golden drop down his throat. The liquid had a name, but he couldn't remember it properly. The girl who carried the bottle had a name as well.

"It's going to hurt, but they've given you something that should knock you out." A hand on his uninjured shoulder. "I'll be right here."

The next Edmund felt was a slow burn in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't like the fever. It was warm and soothing. Like hot chocolate. He felt himself relax as the fever retreated. The world slid out of focus. The only constant was the hand on his shoulder and the soothing words that accompanied it. Edmund fell deeper and deeper under whatever had been forced into him. His limbs were numb. The cuts on his back were hardly bothering him anymore. He felt like he should be able to move freely, but everything felt so heavy. So comfortable exactly where it was.

The burn had spread from his stomach to all extremities and dulled to a light tickle. He was aware that a little string of drool was making its way to the pillow below him, but couldn't move to wipe it away. Then a strange smell reached his nose. It smelled like. . .something dangerous. Something volatile. A grainy substance was crumbled into his cuts. A word of warning, spoken in a strange language.

More words, whispered to Romel. Strong hands grasped both his shoulders and pressed him down. He wanted to tell them to back off, but found it increasingly hard to stay awake. Then pain.

Red hot fire ripped through one of the cuts. It sizzled. His back arched into the mattress and he screamed. He bellowed like a dog being gutted. There was nothing else he could do. Another cut was set aflame and he cried out again. He was trembling. Everything came a little more into focus with the clarity of pain. Tears were seeping from his eyes despite his best efforts.

"Shh, easy." Romel's voice soothed.

Ed found it very hard to comply. Only seventeen years old, the Just King was still victim to his hormones. His feelings. Not that _he_ was aware of being any of those things.

"They're helping you."

He stopped squirming and tried to settle. More and more cuts were charred across his back. This was a hundred times worse than receiving them had been. By the end of it he was shaking violently, crying, generally begging for unconsciousness to claim him. Another frightful concoction was forced down his throat. No more than a few seconds later he was fast asleep.

Romel kept his promise and stayed until Edmund was pulled into darkness.

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><p>When he awoke it was with a rush and a groan of pain. He was on his stomach. A woman chuckled a few feet away. He cracked one eye open to glare at her. Her brown skin was like wrinkled paper and she was missing most of her teeth. But her eyes were alight and her laugh was an easy one. She seemed friendly. Edmund's head dropped back onto the mattress with a miserable moan. He kept eye contact with the woman. He remembered strange words and deduced she was probably the source of them. Even in the gloom of her tent she couldn't be mistaken for Narnian or Calormene. She spoke a few words of gibberish and shuffled out of her chair.<p>

Has she been knitting?

She left the tent without further explanation. Edmund allowed himself to sag back into the bed. He took a moment to account for all his aches. Most of them were blissfully absent. His fever was down and along with it, the dull ache in all his bones and muscles. His head felt better by far. Still a mild headache, but nothing he hadn't had before.

But how did he know that? How did he know names like 'Narnia' and 'Calormene' when he had no images or general knowledge to attach to those names?

Images of a large, golden hall fizzed through his brain. They intimidated him for some reason. Memories of power and responsibility. Countless lives. Blood on his hands. Battles being raged all around him. With a quick flinch he snapped out of it. He returned his focus to cataloging his injuries. His back was still wicked sore. The cuts were burning, but also nothing he couldn't handle. He clenched his chest muscles and pushed up from the bed. His back was rigid. Muscles bulged pleasantly on his upper arms. He smirked and looked down the length of body.

To his delayed horror he realized he was quite naked with only a blanket around his waist. He was suddenly grateful the woman had left. He looked down the length of his arms and felt pleased. It almost felt like muscles there bore more than strength or power. Something fluid and commanding. Like something of a dream. The flush of power brought back more sliding images that he instantly closed off. His wide eyes stared blindly in front of them. That feeling of authority brought memories he wasn't willing to face. Not yet. Perhaps he didn't need authority and wit? Maybe two, strong hands were enough?

_Your keenest weapon is your mind, my boy_, his mind informed him. His inner voice sounded an awful lot like a wise, old man. He couldn't put a face to the one who might have said it to him, but decided to push it back. More memories meant less control. He wasn't sure he wanted them yet. One thing at the time.

He needed to put on some clothes in case that woman came back. A pair of breaches were laid out for him. A tunic as well. All were in dark colors. He got out of bed with a choked off moan. His back began throbbing the second he started moving around. It took nearly ten minutes to dress. His back stung whenever he moved too fast and he lost balance when he leaned too far forward. He sighed and tried not to vomit when the last piece of clothing was on. He looked around his surroundings a little better. The tent seemed fresher this morning. _Or was it afternoon?_ A little cooler too.

The smoke had been aired out, it seemed.

He pushed the flap open and stepped out into a green forest. His surroundings were stunning. Though the air was cool here, compared to other places he was too scared to remember, he could see the appeal. Spikes of evergreens shot out of black earth. Green melded with blue as the tree crowns touched the sky. Prickly outlines offset the dark ground with the brilliant heavens. Edmund allowed his eyes to travel the length of the trees. He smirked softly when a strange birdcall echoed through the forest.

Though there was movement, noise, people, it still felt as though something was breathing deeply and silencing all. Soothing. Even in Narnia, a country known for its deep forests, it was difficult to find stillness like this. A flash of gilded smiles and bells of laughter. Most forests there were far more alive than the towns were. The memories of Narnia caught him off guard. A shiver rippled across his spine. He didn't like remembering like this. In flashes.

What he saw made very little sense and scared him to boot.

Flashes of happiness, but also glimpses of extreme terror. Duress. Sadness. Desolation. Forests, such as this one, where wars had been carried out. Blood and screams had faded into the green stillness too many times. Fever dreams of pretty Ladies in flower-peddle dresses. Hair like autumn leaves when they passed. Love. It was all too much to take in. He had the distinct feeling that all those emotions weren't meant to be compressed like that. Like they should have been spread out evenly through many years. It felt like seven years of light and color. Of violent emotional upheavals. Everything before then seemed grey.

Edmund's bare feet dug a little deeper into the soil. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly.

He felt like he could spend his life in this forest. With these people. A deep voice within stilled him. He calmed down. _Do not try to rush nature, Edmund_. The same voice was before. Perhaps it was alright to take his time? _Though it may seem inflexible, time changes one's perspective_. He smiled. The voice sounded nice. Familiar.

"Ed," a man called.

Edmund vaguely remembered him from the previous night. _Roman-Ra-. . .Romel?_ He and his companions were seated around a fire a few feet away. Some of the relaxation left him and yet a sliver stayed. Like a gentle hand on his back. He smirked and moved over to join them.

"Are you feeling better, friend?"

Edmund smiled fully. He had an almost magnetic presence. His dark skin and soft, brown eyes were offset by the bulging muscles all along his arms and chest. It was nice to be considered one of his friends. "Yes. Thank you." he answered politely. Romel seemed pleased with this show of common courtesy. Though he hardly registered it consciously, it told Edmund a bit more about him. He valued the right things. Respect. Loyalty. And though still generally unaware of his own past, Edmund felt he could recognize a good man when he saw one.

Romel offered a seat which he gingerly took. He was very careful not to bend his back , which made sitting down much harder than it should have been. A few of the gathered frowned in sympathy. A plate of food was offered to him. Barely had he accepted it before the old woman from before shuffled over and wrapped him in a thick fur cape. Sheep skin as far as he could tell. He smiled and the woman chuckled merrily back before she shuffled off.

Romel was smiling when Edmund looked at him again. "She likes you." he said in a deep voice. Not at all unkindly and a lot like the voice in Edmund's mind.

The dark-haired teen smirked and forked up his first bite of food. "The feeling's mutual." He frowned a little at the sound of his own voice. It sounded both familar and unnusual. He passed it over when a memory of singing in front of people surfaced. The food was a bit bland, but very filling. Filled with animal fat; perfect for protein and to gain a satisfactory feeling of fullness. He smiled and wolfed down a few more bites.

"I suppose introductions are in order?" a young, red-headed man asked with a smirk.

Edmund looked up and briefly stopped eating. "Oh. Sorry." He set down the fork and tried to chew quickly.

Romel chuckled and waved him off. "Not from you. Your name's all we need for now, kid. Keep eating. You need your strength."

Edmund obliged happily, but kept his alert, brown eyes turned on his new friends. "This is Arthur Redmane." Romel clapped the red-head on the shoulder. "Next to you," He gestured to the stunning woman on Edmund's right-hand side. "-is Valera Ben-Galen."

She smiled and extended her hand. "Lovely to meet you, Ed."

"Oh- It's Edmund."

"But you prefer Ed." Romel stated.

Edmund stared at him, deep in thought, before he nodded and smiled. _Ed_ sounded more familiar. Safer. He returned his attention to the food.

"On your left is Baglis Kust, but most just call him Archer."

"You're an archer?" Edmund asked with a quirked brow.

The rough looking guy, Archer, was eating as well. He didn't extend his hand or greet Ed in any way other than nod.

Edmund immediately slouched and folded in on himself a little with a self-conscious smirk.

"Introduce yourself, Arch." Romel demanded in a stern voice. Not unlike an older brother's reprimand.

Archer wiped a fat-slickened hand in his right pant leg and offered it to Ed. "Don't ever call me Baglis."

Edmund accepted the hand and nodded meekly. The man was as tall and broad as Romel, but with a much more menacing appearance. Tattoos stretched across his bare arms. He was the only one there who wasn't covered up to fend off the cold. Golden hoops dangled from each ear along with more tattoos on the back of his neck.

"These two buffoons next to me are Elijah Mazouf and Hale."

Edmund tore his eyes away from Archer. "No last name?" he asked Hale meekly.

He shook his head. "No last name. You?"

Edmund frowned. "I can't remember."

Romel nodded calmly with a glance down. "We figured as much. Your fever had you rambling pretty madly for a while. Not much of what you said made a lick of sense." He glanced around at his companions. "We figure you'll stay with us until you regain the memories you lost or you choose to leave." He quirked a brow at Edmund as a silent question.

The dark-eyed boy lit up in surprise and smiled shyly. "That would be nice."

Romel smiled. "Good." He cleared his throat. "Now, three of us you _don't_ know," He held up his hand to count his fingers. "Lauviah; she's out getting a few supplies along with the two best gamblers this world ever saw, Hamied Bizz and Stell Flitcher."

Ed nodded. His eyes drifted to the fire and the names 'Calormen' and 'Narnia' returned. "It's a strange assortment of names, if. . ." he hesitated. "- if you don't mind me saying." he glanced at their faces. Instead of looking put out, Romel just tilted his head with a cocky smile.

"Do explain." he offered.

Edmund lowered the little plate. "Well, _Ben-Galen_ and _Flitcher_ sound almost Archenlandish." He couldn't remember precisely _how_ he recognized the names as Archenlandish – or Archenland itself. It was more a feeling when the syllables rolled off the tongue, than an actual memory. More like a general warmth somewhere over his left shoulder, than a spot on a map. "And _Mazouf_ and _Bizz_ sound Calormene."

Elijah smiled at him. "Good ears, kid."

"Good memory too," Valera smirked.

"You're right, by the way," Elijah continued with a sly glance at Romel. "I'm Calormene born and bred. Hamied is a bit more sensitive about his upbringing. Best not to bring it up unless _he_ does." he kindly advised.

Edmund smiled and nodded, but then frowned softly. "Why are three of you without last names?" he asked around another mouthful.

"You ask a lot of questions for someone was only recently introduced to the group." Archer bit off.

"Archer!" Romel barked. "Get up."

"The kid is too curious for his own damn good, Romel!" He gestured towards Edmund. "You wanna give him our names you might as well adopt hi-"

"Leave. Now."

Everyone had gone dead silent. Valera was glaring at Archer with a hand on the sword strapped to her waist. With a huff, he flung his plate several feet back and got up in a rush. But before he left he leaned down to Edmund. "Best watch your back, kid-"

Romel was up in a matter of seconds. "_You_ don't threaten him!"

Valera had come to a stand as Romel. Edmund flinched back and swallowed nervously. The female soldier still hadn't drawn her sword, but was almost vibrating with the urge to. Her knuckles were white around the hilt. Edmund was frozen. He couldn't have stood if he wanted to. He suddenly longed for the comfort of a weapon in his hands. He couldn't remember where the desire came from, but chalked it up to one of the many other memories he wasn't yet ready to remember. For a few seconds everyone held their breaths as Romel and Archer stared each other down. Then Archer huffed again and left.

"I'm sorry-" Edmund began.

"Don't be." Valera soothed when she reclaimed her seat. She smiled at Edmund and teased a little smirk out of him. "Archer has a temper, I'm afraid." She sighed in an attempt to calm herself. It went a long way to calm the others as well. Romal sat back down as well. "And you were right," she continued. "I _am_ from Archenland. Grew up with my family in the White Forest, near the Winding Arrow River."

A flash of tall birch trees shot through Edmund's mind, but he pushed it back. "I think I've been there," He stared deep into her eyes.

She smiled and patted his arm companionably. "You're remembering. That's good." She looked at Romel.

"Very good." he agreed.

Edmund smirked into his food.

"How did you come to be here, if you don't mind me asking?" Arthur asked. He still had the shadow of a smirk around his lips.

"I don't quite remember, I'm afraid."

Arthur nodded. There was a perpetual glint in his hazel eyes. One even Archer's anger couldn't quench.

"I think I was searching for someone and they caught me." Edmund looked down as unbidden memories played in front of his eyes. Pain. Dancing fires and men laughing as they hurt him.

"It's alright." Valera assured. "It'll come in its own time." She smiled and shared another meaningful look with Romel.

"You'll stay with us 'till you're better." He promised.

Edmund couldn't help but smile at the thought. He quite liked the idea of spending time with these people. They looked like they didn't completely belong with the other villagers. And he felt a tingling desire to hop on a horse and ride off. The thought of going on adventure wasn't an all-together unappealing one . The only problem looked to be his back and the poor reaction Archer had had to him. He shifted, and almost as if reading his mind, Romel frowned.

"Your back giving you grief?"

Edmund shook his head softly. "Not terribly." He didn't feel the need to mention that even these few minutes of sitting had brought the pain back. The wounds were stinging under his tunic. And more than that even. The muscles were terribly tender and irritated. He was sore all the way down the front of his chest. His shoulders as well.

"Lauviah might have something for that." Romel said. When Edmund frowned, he elaborated. "She's a magician with Ambra bark. Makes a pain relieving tea like none other." he encouraged. "That should take some of it."

"And what about Archer? Will it fix him too?" Arthur asked with a smirk. Edmund guessed it took a lot to wipe that away.

Romel chuckled, infected with the red-head's positive attitude. "No, I'm afraid that'll require something a bit stronger."

The gathered chuckled.

Edmund chuckled softly with. A light mood settled over the five people. The fire was restocked a few times by young girls to ward off the chill. Edmund crawled back into bed when his eyes began dropping. They assured him it was normal to feel tired when someone had undergone as much as him. He woke to a steaming cup of tea on the floor next to him. He drank it despite its horrible taste. He walked outside and saw that the sun had moved in between the pinetrees. The nomads - as it turned out they were - were settlling to eat their evening meals. Edmund was seated as before. Recieved a sheepskin from the little, old lady and a plate of food as before. After he had eaten he felt a little better and decided to take a stroll around the camp. He frowned when he saw Romel stuffing his things into a sack. "Hello," he said softly.

Romel straightened and smiled once he saw who it was. "Hey, kid. You should be sleeping," He beckoned Edmund closer. "How's the pain?"

He rubbed his shoulder self-consciously. "Much better. I'll have to thank Lauviah properly tomorrow."

Romel smiled. "Don't bother. She's not the best at receiving gifts. She prefers to give them."

Edmund smiled quickly, but it died as he sat down. "How is it you all found each other?"

Romel stopped packing and glanced at him. "It's a very long story." He took a seat as well. "I'd rather talk about the practical stuff."

Edmund nodded, disappointed.

"We leave tomorrow at dawn. We have a long journey ahead and it's going to be tough on your back."

"Where are we going?"

"To Calormen first. As far south as we can get. Then back north, through Archenland."

Edmund nodded, lost in thought. "Are you planning on crossing through Narnia?"

Romel shook his head and stuffed another item into his sack. "No. We head straight to Calormen and try to avoid unwanted attention."

"Why?" He frowned.

"That's enough questions, Ed." Romel patted his back softly. "Get some rest."

Edmund maintained his frown, but didn't dare to ask any more questions. He fell very gingerly into bed and sighed. The pain was slowly returning and just as he noticed it, Lauviah entered. In her hands she held another cup of tea. She smiled and set the cup down on the ground next to him.

"Do you mind?" she asked and gestured to his back.

He shook his head and lifted the tunic up so she could inspect the damage. "Looks better," She encouraged and poked the cuts. "I've put some Holly in the tea. It helps to keep the wounds free of infection."

Edmund nodded and tried to stay awake whilst simultaneously ignoring the pain her gentle administrations brought.

Lauviah finished and lowered the tunic. She placed a hand on his shoulder and shoook him awake. He was surprised to find he had dozed off in just two seconds. She smiled again and held out the tea.

"Thank you." Edmund accepted the foul-tasting (but healing) tea and gulped a few mouthfuls down.

"Drink it while it's hot. It tastes worse when it's cold, as hard as that is to believe," she advised and stood. "I talked to Romel. He's going to buy a horse for you to ride tomorrow."

Edmund arched a sleepy brow. A 'hmm' sound. The tea was already working.

"We'll have to sell it when we reach Calormen, but we both agree that you can't survive a walk through the Great Desert in your condition."

He nodded, simultaneously mushing his face into the pillow.

Unseen by him, Lauviah smiled and tilted her head. "Drink your tea, Ed."

He sniffed and jerked up. "Righ'." He grabbed the cup with uncoordinated hands and drank. Satisfied, she left the tent. A small lantern had been placed in the corner and offered a soothing glow. It was cold outside and he wondered how his health would handle sleeping under an open sky for several nights. Half of him wanted to stay where he was. He didn't much mind that he couldn't understand the people. Languages could be learned. It was so very nice here. So quiet.

Just as his sleep-drunken mind had decided to stay, a roar made him jump. He tensed every muscle and pushed up on his elbows. He listened for any sounds outside, thinking a predator was near. Expecting to hear people scream. No more sounds were forthcoming and he wondered if maybe it had been in his mind. Perhaps he was still feverish? Perhaps he was insane and _that_ was why he couldn't remember?

He snuck a hand to the back of his neck, but couldn't feel any heat radiating there. So no fever then. That didn't rule out madness. He sighed and settled back down. _To cross the river you _must_ build a bridge_, the old voice suddenly said. Edmund was staring at the linnen that made up his walls. A strange feeling of warmth soothed him as it had the other times. He supposed that should tell him that voices in his mind weren't abnormal occurances. And not just the "old" voice either. There was another one that sounded younger. One he couldn't recognize despite its familiarity. It was a voice he'd only heard once during the day. As he had spoken with Romel.

_Easy, Eddy_. . .

It had a slightly lighter pitch and seemed to almost glow. He half wished he could remember who it belonged to, but had only the vague memory of another, young man. Slightly older than himself and his polar opposite in every way. Strong. Broad-backed. Golden armor. Sincere smiles. Blue eyes. A banner with a blazing, red lion.

_Build bridges, Edmund_. . . the "old" voice told him.

A faint drum started beating. Slow and steady like a heartbeat. And just as easily, to the strange echo of a long forgotten lullaby, he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Denial

**Disclaimer:** There once was a man who wrote a great tale. I am not a man, nor have I written any great tales. I do try in his honor, though :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Denial<strong>

Susan read the note from her younger brother a sixth time. She had received it yesterday. By then Edmund had been gone a week. Up until that note everything had seemed fine. All except for a little nagging doubt, deep in her chest. But that was usual when her siblings were away from home. One day had passed since that last note, which had already exacerbated her concern, before she wrote her sister. No news from Edmund. No couriers, no notes. No soldiers. No brother.

This wasn't an unusual occurrence. It could simply be that her brother had his hands full. But never the less she had sent word to Lucy. Alerting the youngest queen to her concerns and silently asking for advice.

Lucy's letter answer came two days after Edmund's last note. She explained that it was normal behavior for their brother – something Susan already knew. She replied that Susan should give their brother – _at least_ – two more days before she sent a search crew. She informed that matters in Galma had not yet been settled, but that they were very close to finding the culprit. It seemed it wasn't just one man, as they had thought, acting alone. Someone had hired him to kill the duke. His employers had to be found before she could return.

Susan begged her sister to be careful and Lucy ordered her to send word the second she heard from Edmund.

Two more days passed, which brought the total of days he had been missing to eleven. More than a week. The last part of which- she had heard nothing.

On the morning of the eleventh day she organized a small party to ride to the edge of the Shuddering Woods and search the area. A Gryphon captain returned the next morning with horrifying news. "Their bodies were strewn across the ground, your Majesty. At least five days old."

Susan felt the blood drain from her face. She swayed gently before she sagged against the wall. The red shawl that had been delicately draped around her arms fell to the ground. She turned to the Satyr guard next to her door. "Find General Tarvi and tell her to meet me in the map-room."

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Also send for Atticus Artillius. Tell him to meet us there."

"Certainly, Queen Susan." The dark-furred Satyr ran off with heavy hoof-clicks against marble.

Susan dismissed the Gryphon and hurried to meet her general. The Panther Lady, general Tarvi, was responsible for Cair Paravel's security and directly under Susan's command in the event of a siege. One hadn't happened yet, but caution had never killed anyone. Tarvi was already present when Susan arrived. The Frigate Bird, Atticus Artillius, arrived only seconds later. His proud, red chest, intermittently puffing and deflating, as he sought to catch his breath. The great, oval map-room unfolded like a gloomy painting with mountain-like bookcases from floor to ceiling. A glass-dome in the centre of the ceiling was the only source of light. Placed directly under the dome was an oval desk with layers upon layers of maps. From Ettinsmoor to the hot southern plains of Calormen. It was where Peter and Edmund usually held council before a campaign. Some of the wisest creatures in the world had stood, perched of hung in that very room and argued over everything from battlefield-layouts to the freedom rights of Animals and Creatures compared to Humans.

"Atticus, Tarvi." Susan greeted quickly. The sound only traveled a few feet in the dusty air. Susan usually never came in here. It reminded her of war and was thus one of the rooms she rarely frequented.

"Your Majesty." both returned.

"I have just heard word of my brother from our scouts."

"What word is there, Milady?" Tarvi asked.

"He's gone," Susan answered with a deep inhale. Both the Panther and Frigate Bird sucked in breaths of surprise. "I intend to keep this a secret for as long as possible. I asked the scouts to remain where they are and it's my hope that you will join them with your trackers?" She looked at Tarvi expectantly.

"Of course, My Queen."

"Good." She turned to the Bird. "Master Atticus, I charge you with the task of flying to the North and contacting my brother. His soldiers are situated just west of the River Shribble." She pointed to their accurate location on one of the many maps. Red dots marked the permanent watchtowers. Miniature models marked the mobil fortifications. An old chesspiece of Edmund, a knight, marked the High King's pavilion.

The Frigate saluted and bowed grandly. "Yes, your Majesty."

"Bring him this message," She tied a piece of parchment gently around his leg. On it were the words:

"_Dear Peter._

_Our most precious brother has gone missing in the Western Wild. It has been twelve days since he left on a minor errand. Five days since I last heard from him. I have Kanell command of the search party. His scouts only found the remains of his guards. Edmund is no where to be found._

_Love Susan."_

- Deliberately leaving Peter to make the decision whether or not to come home. She was fully aware how important his job as protector of the North was. That, though they usually felt safe, they never truly were. Giants in particular were not to be underestimated and no one but Peter knew better how to hold them off. Nor when he would be able to return.

She sighed and glanced down at the table. The message was short, but such were the rules when sending messages during wars or uprisings. Also a common courtesy towards the Birds who carried those messages back and forth. "Tell him. . . I fear Telmarines may have something to do with King Edmund's disappearance." The Frigate Bird didn't notice her shiver as she mentioned the Telmarines, but General Tarvi did.

"I will leave at once, your Majesty!" Atticus bowed again and took off in a gliding swoop through the window.

"Telmarines usually never cause trouble, my Queen." Tarvi said softly when they were alone. The room suddenly became imporsing. Though it was built as an oval room, the light never reached the bookcases. Darkness always lingered on the fringes.

Susan cleared her throat when tears threatened to fall. She swallowed and plastered on a placid expression before she smiled. "There has only been a few times where I've feared the Telmarines. But based solely on those few times, I still fear for my brother's life." She looked into the Panther's deep eyes. "Find my brother, Tarvi."

"Yes, your Majesty." She bowed quickly and took off in a run.

Susan sighed and stared out of the skylight. "Edmund, where are you. . ." All she saw was the calmness of moving clouds and a sky that just kept going and going.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>This is the first of several glimpses of how Edmund's siblings handle his disappearance. I warn you: It will NOT be filled with angst and fretting as I'm partial to writing. I'll try to remember that these are royals with experience of handling the loss of their own. Also dealing with three individuals who have different relations to each other and different personas depending on whose company they are in. There will be Peter - Susan interaction and Peter - Lucy interaction and I can only get on my creaking knees and pray I do their characters justice. If any of you already have ideas of how YOU think they should react, I'm always open to suggestions. But once the chapters are uploaded there's little I can do. So... *she says and smiles* Leave a review when you've read this and tell me how you imagine their interactions to be with each other. I'll do my best to listen and mold them into believable characters.

Andi.


	4. Chapter 4: Bargaining

**Disclaimer:** Real women never cry... except when old men come up and slap them in the face with a copy of their copyrights.

Ooh! And thanks to dbd823 and Angel8621 for your input and awesome reviews. Thanks to the rest of you guys as well. Really making writing fun :D

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Bargaining<strong>

It wasn't a _rude_ awakening _per say_, but he still growled when the sunlight hit him. A sliver of light had only just managed to carve through the trees and poke its way directly into Edmund's tent. It hit his eyes and made him squint.

Now, Edmund had never been the most gracious of people. Especially in the morning. His sore back and strange surroundings only added to the ire he usually felt. As he sat up he realized he didn't remember _how_ he knew he was usually cranky in the mornings. He just _knew_.

"Up and out!" Romel called through the camp.

Ed rolled out of bed gingerly and stretched. It felt surprisingly good. He noticed that a pair of riding boots were waiting for him by the entrance to the tent. He slipped them on and stepped outside. Romel and his group were sitting around the same fire as last night. Ed walked over and made sure not to sit too close to Archer.

"Morning, Ed." Romel greeted. Most of them were eating and focused solely on that. Romel was sharpening a knife over a limestone. "Sleep well?"

"Very, thank you." He sat down with a tiny groan. Lauviah passed him a bowl of porridge with a smile. She was walking around like an ethereal creature born of the morning mist. Her white hair and pale skin made her stand out among the other dark-skinned people and the powerful trees. Ed imagined she was the kind of woman who could be ravaged by life and still emerge as pristine and demure as she looked just then. Tall with long limbs and the biggest, blue eyes Ed had ever seen.

She passed by him again, this time with a large mug of tea. He smelled it and instantly wrinkled his nose. A couple of his new friends chuckled softly at his reaction, but made no further mention of it. He drank and ate without speaking. Only few words were muttered between the friends. Someone asked for the salt, another asked which river they planned on following.

Edmund sat and simply enjoyed the moment. He returned a smile from Valera and drank his tea before it got cold. Most of the people in the camp were still asleep. A young woman was carrying two water buckets and refilling troughs. A man was nursing a fire and pulled out a string instrument. It looked like a small guitar with eight strings as opposed to six. The man strung a few notes to himself. Soft twangs that blended perfectly with the crackle of fire.

A song was slowly teased out of the instrument while the man looked as if he was falling asleep. Edmund watched in fascination. He _knew_ that sound. He had heard the instrument played before. It was a calm song. A wakening song. Unnoticed by Edmund, Romel was watching him intently. He was watching the expression on the young man's face.

The man kept playing his slow, sleepy notes. When a birdcall echoed through the treetops Edmund glanced up before he returned to his food. His tea had gone cold and the porridge was becoming starchy and slimy, but he ate and drank every last drop and glop. The song slipped into one's subconscious until you hardly noticed anyone was playing. Only when he accidentally strung a bad note, and casually swung to his feet, did Edmund snap back to the present.

They finished their meal as more and more people woke up. Most of Romel's crew left to attend various tasks before takeoff. Until only Arthur remained. "You'll hear more like _that_," He gestured to where the musician had sat. "-the further south we head. The easiest passing through the Great Desert is in the West. Down there you'll see Calormenes dining with Telmarines. Slaves conversing with soldiers." Arthur smiled. "It's a blessed country," He looked at Edmund. "I can't wait to return."

Ed was swept up by his faraway voice. "How long have you been traveling with Romel?"

Arthur sat back with a sigh. "Ahh, nearly five years. Feels like a hundred, though," He smirked.

"And what is your job exactly, if you don't mind me asking? It seems like the others all have their own specific tasks."

"I write," Arthur said with a smile.

"What about?" Edmund was riveted.

"About anyone who cross our path. I used to write about Romel, but only so much can be said about a man until it becomes repetitive."

Edmund nodded. "I didn't realize there was any need for an recorder in their group."

"I'm not _just_ a recorder, Edmund." He tried to look offended, but wound up smiling again. "I'm a _poet_." Ed smiled. "And even _that _can't do it."

Ed arched a brow.

"I cook" he added with a smirk. "Better than any of these fools," He gestured loosely around the camp.

Ed huffed and smiled. Arthur rose and clapped his back in passing. "Come on. I believe Romel has a gift for you."

A loud _eee-aww_ blasted through the camp just as Arthur had said this. Ed rose to his feet with a little help from the red-head and saw to his surprise a donkey. A sweet, little thing with a soft, grey pelt and large ears. Each tip was black and it kept whipping them back and forth. They swished towards Edmund when he came closer.

"Ed, meet Star." Arthur clapped her neck affectionately and smiled. "She's going to be carrying you to Calormen."

"He bought it for _me_?" Edmund let his hand settle on her nose. It wasn't a horse, but she was very lovely never the less. She whickered and made a soft sound in greeting.

"Yeah. We figured we can use her to carry our purchases back from Calormen when you're better. Maybe sell 'er in Archenland."

"Why not sell her in Calormen?"

Arthur huffed. "Never to a Calormene. Don't get me wrong, I love speaking with them and many are my friends. But I wouldn't sell sand to those people."

Ed scratched her forehead affectionately. Vague memories of cattle, laboring under a hot sun, shot past his mind's eye. "No. . .guess not." Arthur missed his last muttered answer and Edmund didn't elaborate.

The little lady from the day before shuffled up to them with a grin. "_Salgan_,"

"Ed, meet Whilamina." Arthur introduced with a smile.

The little lady, Whilamina, smiled and made a _shooing_ motion with her hands. "_Vas_."

Arthur moved just as Whilamina was about to help Edmund onto the donkey herself. The tall poet gave him a careful boost. Edmund feared his weight might be too much, but Star didn't make a sound.

Whilamina smiled and muttered something through her missing teeth before she left. Arthur looked a bit put out.

"What did she say?" Ed asked.

"She said _'It's stubborn. Good luck'_," He shot Edmund a sly glare that made the young man smirk.

"She did _not_."

"Cross my heart." he defended with a smile.

They let out a great peal of laughter and drew the attention of the others as they approached. Most were smiling. Except for Archer, but Edmund got the feeling that he didn't smile much for anything. They were carrying heavy packs and looked ready to leave. "Arthur, more packing and less gossiping please." Valera said with a sweet smile. She dumped a heavy bag on the ground in front of his feet and started walking. She took a position at the front of the group along with Archer, Hale and Stell. After a quick farewell from the patriarch Zoren, they were off.

Edmund gently kicked Star in the flanks and was surprised when she moved without hesitation. He and Arthur shared a look. "Maybe she just doesn't like Whilamina?"

They both smirked aand Edmund started trotting slowly along. Arthur and Lauviah on either side.

The going was slow and a companionable silence descended over the group. Edmund noticed that not many words were spoken when there was no need. He remembered men who filled the silence with humor to hide their discomfort. He had heard lords boast just to hear the sound of their own voice. A young girl with so many thoughts she just had to share them. Her face and name escaped him, but for some reason he had no trouble recalling her voice and laughter.

He smiled when a ray of sunlight crossed his face.

"Why are _you_ so happy?" Arthur asked curiously.

Edmund turned his smile to him. "It's a good day."

"And you're not the one walking." he grumbled.

Edmund smirked and glanced down. "May I ask you something?"

Arthur nodded expectantly.

"Those people we stayed with. . .?"

Nothing further was needed. Arthur understood. "They're gypsies. Nomads."

"And you stay with them often?"

He nodded thoughtfully. "More often than with others." He glanced up at the dark-haired teen. "They're Telmarines."

Edmund felt an involuntary shudder rip through him.

Arthur noticed. "But don't worry," He smirked. "They're the good kind."

He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I think it was Telmarines who hurt me." he confessed.

Unnoticed by both, Romel heard despite being a few feet behind them His attention was piqued by those words. Arthur's face closed, which was more upset than Edmund had ever seen him. "Don't worry, Edmund. They won't hurt you again. That's why you're traveling with us."

Ed nodded. "Have you run in to them before then?"

He nodded. "The gypsies too. The Telmarines you mention live in a castle further to the north. They send out parties to capture slaves. That's why Zoren's tribe moves around so much. But there might be a spy among them. It seems that they can never fully escape the Telmarines no matter how often they relocate."

"Was that why you were heading there?" he asked, referring to the path that had taken them straight by him.

Arthur nodded. "Smart man." He smiled. "Zoren, the guild patriarch, asked us to come and assist him."

"And did you find the spy?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. They suspected it might be an insider. The soldiers aren't the best of trackers and the gypsies have perfected the art of disappearing." He smirked again, but it didn't seem to reach his eyes.

Silence settled as they crossed a small stream. Edmund was watching his surroundings with wide eyes. There was a slight bite of frost in the air which suggested summer was slowly being displaced. It was a quiet day and with nothing better to do, to distract himself from the pain, he turned to watch the scenery. They followed a trail that brought them up the side of a mountain. They weren't that high, but when the left side of the trail suddenly dipped and offered an unhindered view of the mountain range Edmund sucked a quick breath of surprise.

Evergreens pillowed the lowlands in between mountains. Rivers ran everywhere. It was easy for anything to hide under the heavy foliage. _They_ must have felt the same way. The silence was shattered when a distant call echoed through the greens.

Romel immediately called for a halt. Everyone stopped and scoured their surroundings anxiously. _They_ attacked in a wave of black, armored soldiers. Like ants, crawling over a hill. "Telmarines!" he shouted. All drew their weapons and took a protective circle around Edmund.

It was Arthur who reached up and pulled him down off the donkey's back, just as an arrow split the air where his head had been. He felt a sting as one of his wounds opened up. THe increase in soundlevel was incredible. A few seconds passed where he almost thought he was hallucinating. He was proven wrong when a man, clad in armor, slammed into Archer at the front of the group. The two clashed together with a mighty roar; both heavy hitters and both hit the ground hard. A group of men flowed down from the gentle hills in the seconds that followed. Arthur had a strong grip around Ed's arm and pulled him to the back of the group. "Run back to Zoren. Tell him what happened!" he hissed and turned.

Edmund was wildly confused as to which impulse to follow. One said to pick up a sword and join the melee. Another said to run. He watched the fight that ensured for only a few seconds before he turned and ran. He had only taken two steps when a rough hand grabbed his collar and yanked him back. Edmund tripped over his attacker's feet and sent them both falling. They the ground simultaneously. The Telmarine's rapier slipped out of his hands and skidded across the loose soil. Edmund scrambled to his knees and snatched it just as the soldier came to a stand behind him.

The large man looked over his shoulder with a smile, wondering why a whelp would even bother to fight back.

In a movement so fast, Edmund wasn't sure it really happened, he turned and swung the sword. It was lighter than what he expected, but that didn't throw him. He swung it in an arch as he piruetted on one knee to face the soldier. The tip grazed his neck and left behind a thin line of red across his skin. The line quickly thickened as blood poured out of the wound. The soldier desperately clasped a hand over the fatal wound, but was already gagging on his own blood.

Edmund vaguely heard Romel's voice through the din. A scream from a woman made him jerk. His mind was speeding ever faster along with his heartbeat. How could he know how to handle a sword? He had no memory of ever using one, but it felt familiar in his hands. When Archer let out a roar of rage Edmund hopped to his feet and scrambled out of sight, still clutching the sword.

His travel companions were subdued by the superior Telmarine force. Not without a fight and with many casualties on the Telmarine side. None on their own. Edmund watched from behind a fallen log as most of them were knocked unconscious and the rest were forcibly held down. As many as up to six soldiers per man. Romel had gone down with a blow to the head. He was face down in the mud and Valera was screaming at the Telmarines.

He had never heard a women scream like that. Not that he could remember anyway. He was shocked at how much rage could be contained by such a slender, and otherwise graceful, woman. With a great deal of trouble - and almost being killed when Stell momentarily broke free - the Telmarines managed to hogtie every last one of Edmund's companions. They even roped Star. Everyone were dragged or pushed from the battleground.

In the silence that followed he was almost sure that someone would hear his heart beat or his frantic breathing. For almost twenty minutes he cowered behind the log and waited until he was completely sure that the Telmarines were gone. Memories of lashes across his back resurfaced. Each lash causing a flinch. Taunting words. Each one like the whip itself when they sped through his mind. With a great heave of air, he turned and thumped onto his backside. He pulled his legs closer and rested his elbows on them. He buried his face in his hands and desperately tried to control his breathing.

What was he to do now? Run back to Zoren and abandon his friends? Something in him protested wildly against that notion. He counted to ten. When it didn't work he did it again and again until his breathing slowed. He was more ready to track them and try to mount a rescue under the cover of nightfall. He had the seized rapier and an uncanny sense of self-preservation. With a quick smirk he realized he had just conjured up the plan . He would track them until they made camp. During the night he would sneak his friends away, one by one.

He scrambled to his feet and fell back down when he forgot about his back. For a few seconds he could do nothing but breathe heavily until the pain subsided. It took about half an hour, but when it finally did, he was almost pain free. He realized _that_ was the source of his high spirits. The euphoria that followed in the wake of painrelief. His skin was still fragile, but if he just kept his back straight he hardly felt it.

He would really have to learn how Lauviah made those teas.

He followed the trail quite easily. The soldiers weren't scared of anyone following. And because there were so many mouths to feed they made camp early. The sun was barely halfway past zenith before he reached their camp. The soldiers were laughing and joking amongst themselves and seemed to have forgotten to put guards in place. Edmund snuck under a boxwood shrub and hid there as day crept towards evening. Romel and his crew of eight were tied to a cluster of thick pines at the edge of the camp. They were all bound by their hands and feet and each was tied to one of the large trees. Edmund noticed that four guards had finally been sent out in teams of two. Far too late to stop, or even spot him.

When dusk fell he wearily left his hidingplace. He memorized the guards' routes and crawled back under his shrub. As night came, he actually began feeling bored. A little hungry as well. He could smell the meal the soldiers had eaten. His stomach gave an obstinate, little squeak, but luckily didn't rumble. Only a few Telmarines were still awake and he had noticed the guards' rotation earlier. Another rotation wouldn't be long.

He waited patiently until the third shift took up their positions. The guards were too far from the camp to hear him when he made his move. It was a foolish error. Had he been in charge he would have placed _two_ lines of defense innstead of one. One team to scout for intruders and one to watch the camp and the prisoners during the night. But the Telmarines hadn't bothered with that last line and thus fell asleep, thinking they were safe.

With cat-like movements, he didn't know he possessed, Edmund removed himself from his shrub and crawled over to where the others were tied up. All of them were still awake and almost looked as though they had expected him. Archer, he noticed, not without a fair amount of surprise and mistrust. He pulled free the rapier and glanced back. The Telmarines were snoring. He met Romel's eyes and the man quickly nodded.

He cut through the ankle-restraints, but had to stop when a cry made everyone jump. "The prisoners!"

Edmund swirled around with the rapier up. The tip was shaking slightly, but not from fear or strain. It rolled over him like a wave and almost knocked him on his butt. It was _excitement,_ this feeling that consumed him. Not fear. "Ed, untie me!" Romel roared. But Edmund couldn't comply fast enough. In a lightning movement a Telmarine was up and charging with seven more behind him.

Edmund didn't bother standing and just turned on his toes, knees bent, using the rapier like a counterweight. It nicked the soldier in the ankle and sent him flying to the ground. Another attacked, but Ed dodged by jumping back and turning to a stand. He brought the rapier up beside him and met steel with steel.

Two more consecutive clangs split the air before Edmund saw an opening and took it. He cut through the soldier's guard and struck him in the armpit. He was awestruck at his quick movement and took a second to simply stare. All his senses were flaring. The smell of soil, campfires and pine. The feel of cotton against skin and the warm leather grip of the rapier. The silhouettes of the soldiers as they jerked awake and stormed towards him. The call of a nocturnal animal.

"Ed, NOW!" Romel barked.

He flinched and sprinted back. With one movement he ripped through Romel's leather binds and released him. The broad-shouldered man charged up just as a Telmarine descended upon Ed. Romel picked the soldier up around his belly and slammed him into the ground. Edmund quickly cut the others free, finishing with Star.

"Take her and _go_!" Valera called.

"Not without you!" he barked back. He was still clinging to the rapier. Adrenalin was pumping through his system so fast that every thought was overruled by instinct. So far every reaction had been the right one and Edmund wondered if maybe he was used to this. Was he a soldier?

"Fall back!" Romel called, Archer at his side. Both had taken up swords. Both were fighting their way to their confiscated weapons. The Telmarines scouts had come rushing back and joined the melee.

Edmund counted over twenty. He was pushed back by Hamied and Arthur. Both of whom had been reunited with their weapons, courtesy of Romel and Archer. The nine split into two groups without being given the order. One group engaged the Telmarines while the other escaped with Edmund. To his surprise he saw Lauviah stay with the first group. Valera as well. Hamied, Arthur, Hale, Stell and Edmund retreated.

"Move!" Arthur called and pushed Edmund onto Star. He smacked her backside and she was all too happy to oblige. Edmund was whisked away with four trained fighters in his wake. He sent a thanks to whoever might be listening the the four, trained soldiers were on _his_ side.

"Where are we going?" he called to Arthur. He could barely see in the dark, but Star seemed to sense where to step. He loosened the reins and let her run.

"Stay on the path till you cross the river." Arthur called back. A few Telmarines had taken up pursuit, but most elected to stay and protect their camp. When they crossed the river, no one followed. Faint sounds of swords clashing could still be heard, but were fading.

"Do we go back and help them?" Edmund panted.

"They can take care of themselves." Arthur answered. He was looking to and fro, almost expecting their enemy to cross the hill any second.

Star was panting as much as Edmund, but seemed excited as well. "Why didn't you just leave your weapons?"

"You ask too many questions," Hamied said quietly and effectively shut him down.

Edmund allowed himself to sag a little. He was shivering with the rush of adrenaline. His breathing was evening out. The four men around him were heaving deep breaths after their run, but didn't look spent. He eventually sighed and accepted that no more questions would be answered tonight. He could always ask Romel later. After everything settled down.

The sounds of struggle eventually ceased and he feared that the others had been cut down. But when Arthur tapped Hale and started gathering dry wood, Edmund calmed. It was like they just _knew_ the others were alright. And true to instinct, they were. Not ten minutes later they saw Romel, Lauviah, Archer, Valera and Elijah crossing the river.

"Survivors?" Stell called.

Romel shook his head and sighed. "They'll know it was us now. Won't go looking for Zoren." He kneeled in the river and splashed a generous amount of water on his face and neck.

Edmund was watching quietly from his perch. His wounds had started throbbing about an hour back. While he was still waiting in hiding. But during the fight it was as if they hadn't existed. He decided he quite liked adrenalin and settled with himself that he must've been a soldier at some point. He estimated he was barely out of his teens, but decided that didn't matter. He had the skills and the courage, so why not?

"What the bloody hell was that back there?" Archer suddenly demanded.

Edmund flinched and unconsciously pulled back when he realized who he was addressing.

"That's enough Archer," Arthur readily defended, but was cut off.

"No, I'd like to know what happened back there as well." Romel approached him with a presence unlike any the boy had ever felt. _Lethal_ was a good description. _Angry_. "How come you can fight like that?"

It was such a simple question and yet entirely impossible for him to answer. Edmund swallowed nervously and glanced around at the others. "I- I don't know." His voice had been reduced to a whisper. The irony wasn't lost on him: That he could one second bring down two trained soldiers and the next cowered in the face of an unarmed man.

"Right," Romel chuckled humorlessly and took a deep breath. "Your amnesia." He turned his back.

"It's not a game, Romel," Lauviah defended. "He _has_ amnesia."

"Right, I understand. But what I'm baffled by right now is whether to _kiss_ you. . .or kill you." He faced Edmund. "You may very well have saved all of us back there," He pointed in the direction they had come. "Or you may have been lying to us from the start."

Nothing met him but silence. Romel scoffed. "Get him off the ass. If he's well enough to fight, he's well enough to walk." He watched as Edmund was assisted off Star and continued to approach him, only to pass him entirely without another word.

Edmund felt about two inches tall. He was hunched over himself next to Arthur. The red-head placed a careful hand on his shoulder and shook him. Edmund looked up and started walking with a nudge from Arthur's chin.

"Guess there'll be no sleeping tonight, ladies." Archer grinned as he passed.

Edmund sighed, but Arthur shot him a glare. "I hope for your sake you remember soon," was all he said.

They walked through the night. Only stopping once the sun had come up and the terrain changed from forest to plains. The mountains had receded into rolling hills. Edmund could see smoke rising from beyond various hills and figured there were at least a half dozen settlements around. His back had begun hurting badly during the night. Star had had the weapons loaded onto her back, effectively rendering Edmund without a mount.

It was around dawn when his feet began dragging. By his own stubbornness he hadn't uttered a single word of discomfort. He just hoped with all his heart that rest was not far away. He had noticed that one of his wounds had reopened during the fight. It was hot and sticky and made him feel feverish. He doubted Lauviah had a tea that cured gangrene. He looked at the backs of the men he was walking with. Romel was in the front. Lauviah and Arthur stayed close by him. Offered him a hand now and again.

Both were looking more and more worried, but had yet to demand a break. Edmund thought he had reached his breaking point at least four times during the night. His vision would start to blurr and he would trip. The real break didn't happen until about twenty minutes after sunrise.

He was walking, not thinking. His breathing was shallow. His palms sweaty. Sweat was pouring down his back and mingling with the blood. He was glad he was wearing a dark shirt. And then it happened. One second he was standing and the next his knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

He never heard the argument between Romel and Arthur after he fell.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Spitting them out in record time here. Almost done with the story. I can tell you it's already on its 18'th chapter. A bit of way still to go, but we're gettin' there. Thanks for readin and I'm super thrilled to know it's entertaining for you all :)


	5. Chapter 5: Depression

**Disclaimer:** My mother told me never to steal. My dad countered and said: "Never get caught". I chose a golden middle way- call me Buddhist, but I prefer to borrow with permission.

**AN:** I've been asked if I have a lot of freetime. To that question there is only one, very simple answer: Oh yeah! :D Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Depression<strong>

Susan was ready to explode with concern. Two Gryphon scouts had returned that morning while the rest of the search-party continued on. They said Edmund's trails led across the mountains, into Telmar, but they had yet to find a path. Susan knew they wouldn't return without her brother, but worried whether or not they would be carrying home a king or a corpse. Peter had wanted to return once Atticus informed him of the situation. Susan sent the answer that there was nothing he could do that wasn't being done.

She knew her brother would have dropped everything to come back and search for Edmund. She also knew that Giants were still holding their ground and would move in the second he abandoned his post. He was literally the last line of defense. He knew it too and had only needed a little, gentle reminder.

"_Don't be a fool, Peter Pevensie. Love Susan."_

Peter had vowed to come home as soon as possible. He made his intentions known in the very first letter: He intended to join the search-party in the south immediately after his return.

Lucy had announced that the contractors of the duke's assassination had been found and dealt with. The duke was more than pleased and had wanted to throw a weeklong celebration. When Lucy told him of their situation, he had instantly offered his services. She had declined, saying – as Susan had – that all that could, _was_ being done. She did however ask him to keep an eye out until her brother was returned. Should any new ships make port. She asked him to keep an ear out for any rumors. He had accepted with the greatest vigor, promising that every ship in dock would be thoroughly searched. Lucy was a day's travel away with a possible delay due to an off-shore storm. It wasn't too powerful, but could set her back half a day.

Susan could feel all her nerve endings unraveling. Every night since Edmund vanished, she had called for Liva; a Lemur healer. Every night she drank a tonic to help her sleep. It didn't help, but she still rose in the mornings; always feeling worse than the day before. She hated not having all her siblings home.

It was the same every time one of them left. Every few months Peter would get restless and send a scout to the Northern border. Just to see if everything was all well. Edmund was very similar, yet strangely reluctant to leave his family. He would often take a party into the Western Woods simply to check things over. But only a few days. He always came home. This was one of the few times they _hadn't_ expected trouble, where trouble had found him. Susan thanked Aslan that he hadn't been riding Phillip and that Kanell hadn't been with him when the Narnians were slaughtered.

She knew it was selfish, but also knew how much Edmund treasured both the Horse and the Centaur. That, and Xati would have been inconsolable. Susan also knew that Kanell, who had been dispatched as part of the search team, wouldn't rest until he brought her brother home. Oreius neither, for that matter, but the General was helping Peter in the North. The captain and general had established an unbreakable bond with both their kings during the many dangers they had faced. They were not in the habit of letting each other down.

She had even gone so far as to contact King Lune and their Narnian Ambassador in Calormen, along with a few spies as well. She was hesitant to contact the Tisroc though. It was hard for her to anticipate his reaction. Nor was she quite sure what role he played in the debacle two years prior with Rabadash. All the same she would rather not let the war-mongering monarch know that one of the Narnian royals was missing. King Lune had offered his assistance and told Susan to call upon him for anything she could possibly need. He warned her that his mother in law, Princess Eo, had taken the news quite poorly. She was on her way to help the Narnian sovereigns in their time of need.

Normally Susan loved the woman, but feared her presence there would become cumbersome. In the midst of everything Susan still had a country to run. Narnians had already approached her for permission to post vigils every night until their Just King was returned. She had granted it before she closed court for the day. Sir Giles had been a silent companion as always.

After hearing of Princess Eo's nearing arrival, he had promised _not_ to send for any of his relatives. Not without a sly smirk, as was customary for Foxes. She was more grateful than ever for his presence and loyalty. She couldn't have asked for a truer friend.

Nor could Edmund. The Fox had been one of the first to readily accept him as king. Perhaps even before his siblings had. The first to forgive his betrayal against his family and the Narnians. She suddenly felt unsure whether or not Edmund knew this. She wanted nothing more than for a chance to tell him. To have him back where he belonged.

But short of riding out herself, there was little she could do to aide in the search. So she worked. She held court as usual. She entertained an ambassador here and there _as usual_. She drank the supposedly soothing tonic every night before bed and spent the whole night staring into the ceiling. She ignored Liva when the Lemur warned about the addictive side effects in the tonic.

Susan wasn't planning on taking it over a prolonged period of time anyway. When she sent for Liva the next night she nevertheless bound the healer to secrecy. The very last thing she needed was for one of her subjects, or Aslan forbid – her _siblings_ – to become aware she wasn't sleeping and taking addictive sedatives to help.

It wasn't until Lucy arrived that Susan felt an iota of her tension melt away. Her beautiful, little sister raced all the way from the docks to just embrace her as the first thing. "We'll get him back," she promised. Her voice shaky.

Susan hugged her back. "I know." she lied.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Hi. Got a massive back-log of chapters all written and relatively ready to post. I'm gonna try to keep it to one a day, though I might miss tomorrow. School work beckons for my attention... well _that_, and the two girls who are writing the assignment with me. But who knows, I'm probably gonna find myself sitting in the dead of night with nothing to do. In that case there will most definitely be a chapter. Things start picking up in the next one, by the way. :)

Thanks to the lurkers and reviewers. You all ROCK!


	6. Chapter 6: Resilience

**Disclaimer:** Oh c'mon...

**AN:** I felt bad for leaving you all hanging.

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Resilience<strong>

Arthur had never shouted at Romel like that. Only once that he could even remember and that was years ago. He had never felt so mad before either. It was one thing to be suspicious of someone and a whole other thing to punish them when they tried to help.

For the first time since meeting him, Arthur felt that Romel had overstepped a line. And for the first time he had told him that. Shouted it, even. Making the kid walk when his body wasn't strong enough was more barbaric than anything he had ever seen. Edmund was still physically a child. Never once had he thought one of his friends would treat a child like that. And he had made _sure_ Romel knew what he had done wrong. The terrible thing was he didn't feel better for it. Romel's furious punch had only proven his point as far as he was concerned, but the anger remained. Even as he was sitting in the light of late morning, rubbing his throbbing chin - Edmund sleeping in a tent - he felt tense.

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><p>Edmund woke up to a plethora of sound. He was on a mattress in a tent. The wind was making the flaps snap. People were screaming and laughing outside. Children were running around and people he couldn't see were generally making a mighty racket. Bright sunlight was streaming into his shelter and only added to his ire. He had no memory of how he got there or where he was. He stretched experimentally and found that nothing ached too much. The wound that had ripped was sore, but the others seemed to be healing. He reached down when a flaky feeling made the skin on his back taught. He crumbled the crunchy substance between his fingers. It was a porridge wrap. No doubt Lauviah had worked her magic again. He smirked and pushed to his feet.<p>

He felt weak. Tired, but restless. He decided to leave the porridge-wrap and pull a shirt over the wound. It was a new tunic. Dark green this time. He found his boots at the foot of the littler and slipped into them. As they had the very first time he met them, most of his travel companions were waiting for him outside. All but Romel, Archer, Elijah, Stell and Hamied. He smiled a little and sat down.

"How are you feeling, Ed?" Lauviah asked. She was already up and fixing him something to eat. It seemed she had made him her personal project. And who was he to complain, really?

"Better. Much better." He took a seat next to Arthur and looked around. "Where are we?"

"The lovely merchant city of Kestra. The arse end of Nowhere."

Edmund quirked a brow; both at his tone and because he hadn't the faintest idea where Kestra was.

"Archenland." Arthur explained dully through a mouthful.

Edmund nodded, but wondered why the warrior poet seemed mad at him. Had he done something he wasn't supposed to? His silent reverie was interrupted when Lauviah handed him a bowl of porridge. Not unlike the stuff he had crusted on his back. He frowned, but started eating anyway. To his relief it didn't taste anything like the teas she was want to make.

"You should've said something, you know." Arthur mumbled through a spoonful of porridge.

Edmund stopped eating to look at him.

Arthur noticed. "We take care of each other, but we can't do that if you don't tell us when something's wrong."

"I wasn't aware I was _one of you_," Edmund scoffed through a mouthful of his own.

Arthur glared at him in shock before he just huffed and turned. Demonstratively cutting short the conversation. Edmund was puzzled as to why he was acting this way. Instead of asking, he sulked and returned his focus to the food. Valera smiled across her own bowl at him. "He reacts this way when he's worried. None of us handle fear very well, so we hide it."

"I'm noticing," he mumbled and sourly glanced at Arthur's back.

"He _particularly_ doesn't handle worry well."

"I'm still here," Arthur barked.

"Then you should turn around and join the conversation or _leave_," Valera shot back.

The red-head huffed and left the campsite. Valera chuckled without seeming particularly affected by his mood. "What exactly did I do wrong?" Edmund asked.

"That's a larger question than you realize. One best asked to Romel." she answered.

He nodded and conceded with the fact that he would probably never know. Romel was very reluctant to delve too deep into any of the questions Edmund wanted answered. "Where are the others?"

Her eyes drifted up to his face. "Romel, Archer and Elijah are out trying to secure passage through the valley. Stell is no doubt gambling already and Hamied is probably visiting one of his lovers."

Edmund smirked. "He has more than one?"

"He boasts about having one in every town." She smirked.

He frowned when he remembered about Romel, Archer and Elijah. "Why does Romel need to secure your passage? You seem capable of securing your own passages through most places."

She smirked as did he. "It's a gesture of respect. We pay the local thugs a few Credits and they don't cause us trouble."

"Do all traders do this?"

She shook her head. "No. Only us that I know of."

"Why?"

This made her flinch. She looked up with an ambivalent look in her eyes. "Usually it's only thugs, mercenaries and thieves who pay a toll."

Edmund's eyes widened. "But you're neither of those things."

She smirked into her food. "Edmund, my friend. We're _all_ those things." Her smile vanished when she spotted someone entering the camp. Edmund turned when her expression turned downright worried. "Here comes one now," she mumbled and stood up.

A short, thick man in a scarlet silk robe entered their camp. Ed noticed how Valera tensed and how all of them reached for their weapons.

"Valera! Lovely as always!" the stranger called. Three very large men flanked him. They all looked angry and very, very strong. Probably had a dozen weapons on their persons, as well. Edmund stayed seated, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

"Ahh, I see a new face."

He sighed and cursed mentally. It appeared inattention was not something he could project. "He's with us, Harrol." Valera stepped into his line of sight.

Harrol pretended to pick something out of his gums with a great flourish before he dignified her with a look. "You should really consider coming to work for me." He smirked and showed off five gilded teeth.

Valera smirked crassly and took a casual parade stance. "I'm fine here, thank you."

"That boy of yours is welcome as well." He gestured to Edmund and proceeded to look him over as if appraising a cow.

Edmund shivered. He already didn't like this man.

"What say you? Have you been with them long?" He approached him in a slithering sort-of-strut. His tone of voice was something even a puppy would have found condescending.

Edmund felt compelled to stand, if nothing else than to see if he was taller. He was. "I'm fine here, thank you." He glared and enjoyed the ill concealed look anger that flashed across Harrol's face. The man was bald as well, Ed noticed now that he had the height advantage.

"Does he train you to say that, or does it just come naturally?" he asked Valera before he turned to face her. During their conversation Arthur had returned and joined Hale and Lauviah behind Edmund.

The female soldier inhaled deeply and Edmund could tell it took all her self-restraint not to punch Harrol down. Ed smiled and scoffed. Harrol turned on him so quick, he didn't have time to duck and slapped his face. It was over so quick that Edmund just stared at him with one hand on his throbbing cheek.

"Don't touch him!" Arthur rushed forward and would have run the stranger through had it not been for Valera who waved him down. Arthur instead reached out and pulled Edmund back. Still confounded as to what had just happened, he allowed himself to be maneuvered around.

"Like a wolf pack, protecting their young." Harrol hissed. "Which one of you spawned _this_ one?"

Valera was now gripping her sword without pretending to be polite. Harrol strode past her without even glancing. Not until his back was turned to them did he speak again. "When you tire of sleeping in shit, let me know." He had the nerve to run a finger down her cheek, which she batted away. "I may have a bed for you." He glanced back at Edmund with a snarl. "Maybe even one for the boy too."

Edmund shivered again and curled eve more in on himself. Arthur reached an arm across his back and actually growled. Harrol scoffed and left, taking his buffoons with him. "You alright?" the red-head asked a little breathlessly.

Edmund nodded and gingerly touched his cheek. He flexed his jaw and frowned.

"He likes to humiliate people who scare him." Valera said and sat back down in front of the fire. "You should just take it as a compliment."

"I don't feel very intimidating." Edmund whimpered. He made Arthur giggle before he was pulled back down on his seat.

"Eat your breakfast."

Lauviah brought him another foul smelling tea and smirked when he took his first sip. Arthur did as well. Edmund figured that meant they had buried the hatchet. It didn't escape his attention that the red-head poet didn't leave his side the entire day. It came to a point where Lauviah shooed him out of Ed's tent after she had decided that the pup needed his rest.

Romel, Archer and Elijah returned later in the afternoon just after Edmund had woken from his nap. His new nickname only took about two seconds to spread and gain approval with his companions. It even went so far as to lighten the mood for the evening. "We're planning a little trip to the local watering hole tonight. One of us needs to stay with the camp." Romel said.

"I'll stay," Hale said. The tall, quiet spoken man was somewhat of a mystery to Edmund.

"Maybe I should stay as well?" he suggested. He wasn't sure he wanted to be around too many people. He wasn't sure they wanted him around.

"You should come," Romel overruled. "It'll do you good to see the people we deal with." He shared a glance with Archer and Valera that didn't go unnoticed by Edmund.

He nodded and wisely chose not to argue. After the evening meal Valera smiled at him in passing. "Romel behaves like a bossy older brother when he's worried, pup. Just means he cares." She didn't give him a chance to answer when she continued on with a wink.

Edmund gaped after her and didn't stir until Arthur returned. "Let's go." He smirked and pulled him to his feet.

As they left Ed made sure to get a good look at his surroundings. They were on a large, open field along with many other merchants. Some with their own servants and wagons. Others with only a blanket and a sitar. There were travelers, merchants and locals. All were laughing and enjoying themselves. The night was settling and stars were beginning to sparkle. The mood was enough to chase most concerns from his mind. All except those that had become his steady companions since waking and finding he couldn't remember anything about his life.

The closer to Kestra they came, the livelier the merriment became. Boys and girls, who looked like they belonged in a Calormen ballroom, were swinging flaming sticks around. Strange music and song was heard everywhere. "This way." Romel reached out when Edmund drifted a bit off course.

Edmund couldn't take his eyes off the colors. He kept noticing new sounds and smells all around him. Women dressed far too scantily to be called ladies. Shady characters, trying to sell rubble to travelers, passing it off as black gold. A young woman approached him. She sided with him, all the while walking backwards. Her entire body was slouched and a crimson smile was plastered over her face.

"Hello, darling." She looked him up and down.

"Hello," Edmund greeted politely, though he suspected the woman wouldn't know a gown from a sheet. He guessed right.

"You're new in town." It wasn't a question.

Just as he was about to answer, Romel again reached out and pointed him on course. "And he's going to stay that way."

"Aww," The woman pouted as they left, but didn't push it.

"Who was she?" Edmund looked curiously at him.

"A whore." He said without blinking. "Here we are."

Edmund was pushed, speechless, into a rowdy tavern.

Men were singing to their heart's contentment in a corner, while consuming far too much alcohol. The smell of barley and liqueur was thick. In another corner a group of musicians were trying to play a song while the drunks in the other corner kept singing off key. Edmund smirked. A pitcher was handed to him by a drunk, passing by. It was filled to the brim with foamy, golden beer. He couldn't remember if he'd ever tasted beer before. Before he could take a sip Arthur grabbed it from him and set it on a stranger's table. "Never drink something a stranger gives you."

He guided them both to a bench. He was surrounded by Romel's crew and felt quite safe. A little boxed in as well, but he would take that over abandonment any day. As the mood was absorbed by them, he persuaded Lauviah into letting him have a drink. On the condition he drank twice as much tea the next day. He readily agreed and had his first beer of the evening. The taste was familiar and only spurred him on. He drank greedily and soon felt very relaxed. People were still noisy, tripping over tables and laughing about. Archer and Valera had initiated a drinking game. Everything was bliss.

Right until a familiar face popped up in between the crowds and a loud cheer was given in honor of his arrival.

"_HARROLHARROLHARROL_!"

All nine companions stilled. Romel had his back turned, but aimed a dark glare at the tabletop. Edmund swallowed nervously. Something about the unattractive man made his stomach turn. And sure enough, the lure that had drawn Harrol's attention to him earlier, didn't fail him here.

"Well well well." Harrol was seemingly very drunk. "Friends of old," He placed an arm around Romel's shoulders and leaned in. "Have time to consider my offer, Valera?" He smirked and made most of them frown.

All except Valera. "No," she said simply and took a long drink. Archer giggled openly at the intruder.

Harrol was apparently too drunk to be offended and settled for a grumble. "How about you, boy?" His eyes sought out Edmund like a pirate's sought out gold. "How would you feel about coming to work for me?"

Edmund didn't try to hide his frown. "Touch me again and I'll show you."

"Easy, pup." Romel warned.

"Ahh, good old Rommie." A hiccup. "Never amiss for a soothing command here or-" Hiccup. "-there." Harrol swayed and smiled.

"You've outstayed your welcome, Harrol. We settled our business earlier today." Romel squared his back and glared at the inferior man. "Leave."

Harrol sobered a little and then a rogue frown crossed his face. "We'll discuss business later, _pup_." He glanced at Edmund, smirking.

Again Ed felt like he was being weighed and measured.

A thoughtful pause and a "_Tully-o_!" and he was off.

"I want you to tell me if he comes near you again." Romel told Ed with an accompanying finger jutted his way. His voice left no room for argument. "We're leaving tomorrow, but that's just long enough for you to find something to mess up."

At his strickt tone, Edmund swallowed a lump in his throat. When Romel noticed, he smiled, but failed to put anyone at ease.

"He came by earlier today." Valera said.

"Slapped 'im." Arthur growled out.

Edmund looked down and tried to make himself as small as possible. Romel didn't say anything and only flashed his eyes in Edmund's direction again. "I'll speak to him about that."

Ed didn't envy whoever was on the receiving end of that voice. It promised nothing but pain. He suddenly found himself rather grateful to be considered one of the pack. Even if they only saw him as a pup.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Gonna try and prepare another one for upload tonight since I kinda left you haning with the last one. These two are quite connected.


	7. Chapter 7: Regression

**Disclaimer**: Read previous.

**AN:** Dudes, I'm so fast I scare myself!

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: Regression<strong>

The mood took a while to rise after Harrol's visit. Arthur was the first to smile about something. Archer attempted to lighten their spirits by suggesting more, interesting drinking games. He even included Edmund in most of them.

The drinking continued for most of the night. Edmund was holding his own if he was to say so. The world had only gone a little crooked and fuzzy since his fifth drink. It was something sweet and spicy, not quite wine. Stell had bought the table a round. When Edmund asked, he said it was good for the soul. Edmund had had three. Two pints before that. He watched the table through the bottom of the little glass and smiled widely when he crossed Valera's eyes.

"How are you feeling, Ed?"

"Very. . ." Edmund pondered the right word. "Good."

All the remaining laughed. Hamied had gone off with one of his many conquests. Archer too was huddled in a corner with one of the scantily clad ladies. Elijah had left a while back and Stell wandered off quickly after delivering the spiced drinks. Romel had accompanied Lauviah home when she declared she was too tired to go on. Only Edmund, Valera and Arthur remained at the table. Edmund was gazing around the room, quite unaware of his own condition, until a pressing need presented itself.

"You wouldn't happen to know where I can find a lavatory?"

Valera and Arthur chuckled drunkenly. Only once Valera had caught her breath did she answer. "There's the alley beside the establishment or this cup," she said, snuffling. She raised a beer mug with a smug smile.

Ed huffed and tripped, getting out of his seat. Arthur and Valera broke down in a fit of giggles. "I'll take my chances," he mumbled, too drunk to focus on more than one thing. He made his way through the rough crowd. He stumbled out of the front door and took a second to adjust to the dark. The sounds outside were almost as loud as the those inside. He smiled when two lovers passed by him, giggling. He quite liked Kestra, he decided. Most of the entertainers had long since disappeared, but a fire had been lit in a square a few houses away. People were playing fiddles, sitars and drums. A medley of notes and melodies were combined into something that could barely pass for music. And yet it seemed to fit the spirit of the night.

There was order in the midst of chaos, Edmund decided. He smiled and shuffled around the tavern, into the alleyway. Mud was pressed into the small groove between two buildings. Ed didn't dare speculate what soaked the ground. What was slowly soaking his boots. When he heard a muffled shriek he stilled. His senses all ticked into gear and instinct overruled thought.

"_Shut up_!" A slap and a whimper.

Edmund ventured deeper into the gloom. The girl who had shrieked was crying softly. The sound of fabric ripping and sobbing. Edmund frowned when two silhouettes came into view. "Oi!"

They froze. The slighter one was shaking wildly. The girl he guessed. The other, a man, growled in annoyance. "Bugger off, _pup_!"

Edmund recognized the voice instantly. "Master Harrol?" He wasn't really sure what to address him as, since he had only met him sober once. It felt wrong to call him 'Lord'.

"I said, _get out_!"

The girl ripped free with the sound of more fabric tearing. Harrol cursed absently while she bowled over Edmund on her path to freedom. He got a fleeting look at her blue eyes before she vanished. He barely felt it when she shoved him into the wall. Despite not feeling inebriated any longer, the alcohol was still very much in his system. He wondered if he was really as sober as he thought, but only got that far until two more shadows appeared at the far end of the alley.

Harrol was pushed protectively behind one of them as they headed for Edmund. He pushed off the wall and slipped a little in the mud. A hand on his tunic yanked him back just as he had turned. He crashed into the wall and hit his shoulder. It immediately started throbbing, but he barely had time to whimper before the first strike fell.

"Beat him unconscious." Harrol muttered in the background.

A fist connected with his head and knocked him flat on his back. It left his ears ringing and a trickle of something hot, dribbling down his brow. It was quite a strange sensation; the cold mud against his back and the warm blood on his face. Someone grabbed his ankle and pulled him through the mire. He clawed hopelessly and only managed to scrape it under his fingernails. The two shadows hovered over him for only a second before the first one kicked out. A booted foot hit him in the ribs. A sharp wheeze exploded out of him and he curled in on himself. A second kick to his back made it arch. Not even bothering to catch his breath, he scrambled through the mud and clamped a hand on a rough brick.

A kick to his knee sent him stumbling, but he got to his feet regardless. He managed two steps before something hard struck him in the same shoulder as before. He let out a sharp cry and sank to his knees. Mud was caking every inch of him, but was the least of his worries. The lashes across his back were burning which meant one or more had reopened. _Again_. He growled dangerously low in his throat and swung around just in time to catch a foot aimed at his chest.

He caught it clumsily and yanked back. A bone snapped and the thug let out a loud wail. Edmund slipped back further and clawed his way back up by the bricks. Loud voices were mingling with the faint sound of song and music. Shouts and barked orders. The second man grabbed him and tackled them both to the ground in great splash. More punches rained down. Ed could tell he had really angered them by now, by the extreme force behind the punches.

"What the _bloody_ hell!" a rough voice called.

He recognized it instantly as Archer and almost wept in relief. The thug was still laying half on top of him, trying to punch him into submission – something he knew with a fair amount of certainty _wasn't_ in his nature to be. An angry roar mixed with the other noises and the weight was yanked off. Ed heard the sound of skin and bone hitting a wall. A slapping crunch. Something heavy hit the ground and footsteps approached him. He tried to push up, but failed and ended face down in the mud yet again.

"What was it this time. . ." Archer sounded annoyed more than anything, but Edmund didn't mind. "-a damsel in distress?" It was the best sound he could ever remember hearing. He was pulled to his feet, but couldn't support his own weight. Archer stretched his uninjured arm out and pulled it over his broad shoulders.

"I honest-honestly. . ." A groan. "–don't remember," He knew one of those kicks had injured his ribs. He knew his right shoulder was dislocated or sprained. His left eye was throbbing along with his head and at least one of the lashes on his back was bleeding freely.

"Romel's gonna kill me," Archer grumbled as they stumbled into the street. Valera and Arthur were nowhere in sight so Edmund asked about them. "They left to get Romel." was all he would say.

"Thank you," Edmund muttered shyly after a few minutes of hobbling along. Archer grumbled, but didn't reply beyond that.

The camp was in a state of disarray when they returned. Stell and Hale were frantically running around, packing everything together. Lauviah was arguing with Romel. Valera, Arthur and Elijah looked like they were getting ready for war and Hamied was still missing. They didn't even notice Archer dragging Edmund until they were both a few feet away.

"Romel." Archer called.

All froze. "What happened?" he demanded.

Edmund slouched and suddenly felt every ache. "He doesn't remember," Archer growled. Despite his harsh tone he was very careful when he lowered Edmund onto the ground. Dawn was coming soon, Ed noticed. Lauviah was by his side in seconds. The eastern sky was turning a light blue and the horizon, a brilliant white.

"Valera, Elijah, go find Hamied and drag his ass back here." Romel ordered. Both were off before Edmund could blink.

Though Romel didn't dare push Lauviah aside he still took up most of Edmund's visual field when he kneeled in front of him. "If you want _any_ kind of help from us you'll tell me _exactly_ what happened when you left the tavern."

Edmund had begun shivering, but refused to let it show just how much agony he was in. "He went to take a piss outside," Arthur answered for him. He looked furious.

Taking as deep a breath as he could, Edmund tried to remember in detail what had happened. Most of the fight was a blur, but he remembered why he went into the alley in the first place. "I heard a girl scream." Dark, pleading eyes met Romel's, but the man looked far from forgiving.

"Then what?"

"Harrol was attacking her," He didn't have a word for what he had seen. He knew it was something that shouldn't have happened. Bare flesh. Greedy hands. Something far more damaging than being beaten or tortured.

Romel nodded and gestured for him to continue.

"I called out and the girl ran," Shadows replayed behind Edmund's eyes. "Two men came out of nowhere."

"Harrol's guards. They're as corrupt as he is," Arthur growled.

Romel sent him a glare that promptly shut him up and returned to Edmund. "Then what?"

"Then they attacked." he finished. He was actually longing for some of Lauviah's foul-tasting tea. She was busy cleaning up his face. The mud hadn't even dried yet. It stank.

"That's going to get infected unless I treat it," she said. She seemed completely focused on her task and reminded Edmund so much of someone else. Someone younger. Someone he _knew_.

"Then treat it while we talk." Romel snarled.

She didn't let his tone shake her that Edmund could see. Instead she just left to get her little box of herbs and salves. He had no doubt that she had something nasty; particularly designed to disinfect open wounds while causing as much discomfort as possible.

"Did Harrol recognize you?"

Edmund nodded meekly and wished he could crawl into a hole at the look Romel sent him.

"Alright," He stood and turned. "He'll be here soon or he's already on his way. We need to pack up _now_ and leave as soon as we can." He left Edmund to deal out more instructions. "Hale, pack everything you can into our sacks. Ed has to ride Star until we can stop to get him checked over."

Edmund had never felt so guilty. He may very well have ripped apart any shelter these people had in Kestra. Ruined any chance of them returning. Shredded business- as well as personal relationships. He slouched over his bruised ribs and allowed memories to wash over him. The girl had looked so terrified. So young. Auburn hair and bright, blue eyes. Anger bubbled up inside him at the thought of what might have happened to her.

He should have protected her. Unconsciously he began grinding his jaw. Lauviah asked him to stop when she reappeared. She tilted his head up and back to study the cut on his brow and his bruised eye. "I need to bleed this or it will swell shut and you won't be able to see out of it for a week," she said as she pulled out a small, curved knife.

Edmund shied back, but settled when the grabbed his chin. She looked deep into his eyes for a second to calm him. Then she drew two, thin lines in his skin. It was so sharp he only felt a burn and then warm blood, gushing down the side of his face. The blood had accumulated and cascaded into the collar of his tunic.

"It looks worse than it is. Head-wounds always do." she remarked absently while she fished out a jar of pungent salve. It smelled slightly of ammonia.

Edmund frowned, but sat still when she rubbed it into his cuts.

"Did you rip your lashes?" She caught his eye and noticeably sagged when he nodded. "Perhaps we should just tie you to a chair from now on,"

He smirked, but quickly thought better of it. He counted four cuts on different places on his face. One on his left brow. Two around his left eye and a chapped lip.

"We need to get your shirt off." she said and packed away some of the supplies.

Edmund would have sighed if it wouldn't have murdered his ribs. "I can't lift my arms," he confessed. His head was bowed.

Lauviah slouched even further and glared at him with a weary expression. "Then we'll cut it off." Just as she was about to remove the shirt, a shout made everyone jerk.

"_ROMEL_!" The large voice of a man who was surprisingly small. Harrol had made the trek to the campsite in record time. Four of his strongest men were with him.

Edmund stood up instinctively.

One of the men who had attacked him was there. He had a glorious shiner and a limp. "Your _bastard_ attacked me tonight!"

Just then Edmund absently noticed that birds were beginning to sing. The sky was getting even brighter. The sun hadn't crested the horizon yet, but was illuminating the sky and turning it all a radiant yellow.

"Oh really?" Romel asked calmly. He sauntered over to greet the little man. "Because Valera swears he was with her all night. Can you prove he attacked you?" he smirked.

That was the wrong thing to do to a man who already had inferiority complexes. "I want him!" he hissed.

Edmund could feel rage simmering in the pit of his stomach. It was hissing and spitting like a wild beast. He remembered the girl he had saved. Those blue eyes. How alike she was to someone he couldn't remember.

Instead of being intimidated, Romel took two steps closer until he was nose to forehead with Harrol. "The day I give you _anything_ you're not entitled to, is the day fire rains from the sky." he growled.

Harrol was livid and refused to acknowledge his adversaries' superiority. "I can take whatever I damn well please! This is _my_ town, Romel! Just because you take a liking to a wounded puppy doesn't make him unreachable," Harrol then did the single worst thing that night. He gnashed his teeth together and slapped a hand around Romel's neck to maneuver his face down. "I _own_ you and your little pack of misfits!" he hissed.

Edmund saw Romel's shoulders square and felt surge of fear inside him. Romel was intimidating in a relaxed state. When he coiled up as he just had, he was like a tidalwave. But nothing happened. Harrol let go and Edmund could see a sudden and brief rush of fear in his eyes as he backed away. Romel passively watched Harrol back off. He turned and strode straight up to Edmund. Right in front of him he turned to address the stumped thug. "I've overlooked your misguided sense of ownership for a long time. Maybe I _did_ set the pup loose tonight just to see what he had in him."

Edmund's dark eyes shifted to Romel. He frowned. What was he saying?

"You've been operating under the impression that you're better than us, Harrol." His voice lowered to a threatening roar. "The kid did what he did because I _let him_!"

Edmund eyes narrowed in on Romel. "What?"

The large man turned with a far too self-confident, far too aggressive, smile on his face. He was challenging him. "You really think I don't know everything that goes on with you?" He stalked closer until he was breathing down Edmund's face. "Nothing happens without me knowing. You think I didn't see that son of a whore slip outside with that girl?"

Edmund half shook his head in denial. He _couldn't_ have seen. He wasn't there. He had gone home. _Hadn't he?_ "Then why did you let me go out there?" If he had seen Edmund go into the alley why hadn't he stopped him? Or helped?

"Because I _wanted_ you to," he snarled.

Edmund's blood pressure skyrocketed. He was glaring up at Romel's dark eyes with rapidly climbing rage. "You would have let that girl get raped just to _test_ me?" His voice dripped with fury.

"Yes."

And there it was. There was no guilt or shame. Romel had been willing to put that girl through hell just to test him.

"And guess what," Romel continued. "You failed." He turned back on Harrol. "Take him." He waved a hand and stepped aside.

The remaining company was stunned. Speechless. Right until Valera spoke up. "What!" she shouted furiously at Romel.

Harrol had finally realized that he was free to move and waved two of his guards up to get Edmund. "No." Lauviah shouted at Romel and Harrol when the guards pulled him to his feet. "Romel, what the bloody hell are you doing!" She was furious.

"You mean I dragged him all the way from town for nothing-" Archer growled.

"Shut up!" Valera snapped. At once Romel's "pack" started barking at him.

Edmund struggled against the two guards when they ripped him away, but felt Lauviah slip something into his hand. Her small knife. He palmed it and continued to struggle against their iron grips. Romel had his back turned and arms crossed, as far as Ed could see. None of the others dared come near him, though they continued to shout.

The guards dragged him over to face Harrol with the others shouting intermittently at their leader and the thug. "You see, boy. I always get what I want."

Edmund ground his jaw and glared daggers.

Harrol wasn't impressed with his anger with his guards flanking him. "You think I didn't find that girl the second you left and had my way with her?"

All at once it was as if his body moved on its own. He ripped free and swung the knife into one guard and quickly into the other. There it imbedded itself in his ribcage so Edmund let go and hurled himself at Harrol. The two remaining guards stepped in his way, but he caught one in a headlock and snapped his neck in an almost fluid movement. The last one, the one who had fought Edmund earlier, backed away with his hands high. Without further consideration Ed tackled Harrol to the ground. They skid several feet back. Not two seconds passed before Edmund started swinging at his face. He punched him again and again and again. His arms were pumping like pistons. Machines he couldn't remember seeing, but remembered anyway. He kept punching and punching until Harrol was hardly recognizable anymore. Until blood started squirting out in little drops that hit his face.

He kept swinging even as strong hands pulled him back and pinned his arms behind his back. It was Arthur and Archer, he realized absently. All he was really focused on was his anger towards Harrol. He strained in their grips. He roared out in anger and felt a fury unlike anything saturate him. He wanted to kill him with a passion. Romel moved into view and calmly kneeled in front of the bloodied thug. Harrol was only just starting to squirm. Whimpering and pleading without knowing who he was talking to.

Romel leaned down and spoke in a calm voice they could all hear. "_Nobody_ owns me," He stood and faced Edmund. "Don't ever forget that." Romel still looked angry, but was nothing compared to a furious Edmund.

The dark-haired youth tried to struggle free when Romel approached and stepped right up in front of him. "I wanted to know who I was dealing with," he said. Edmund could feel his limbs shaking. His anger was leaving, he realized with regret. His pain was returning. Romel still looked like he felt no remorse for the mayhem he had instigated. "Now I know." He glanced at Arthur and Archer. "Let him go."

Edmund struggled the second the command was given, but Arthur and Archer held tight. "He'll beat you to a bloody mess, Romel." Archer said through grit teeth.

Edmund wasn't making it easy for them to restrain him. "Not that you don't deserve it," Arthur bit out.

Romel glared at him, but didn't fight it. "He stays." And to Edmund he said, "You passed the test." before he left to do what God only knew.

They released him and Edmund was two seconds from tearing after him and tackling him to the ground. Much like he had with Harrol, who was being hoisted up on the back of the last guard. Ed started towards Harrol's guard, but before he could go, Arthur gripped his arm and whirled him around. "Edmund, calm down!"

Edmund tried to yank himself free, but couldn't.

"Look at me!"

He stilled.

"Edmund!"

He sighed.

"Look. At. Me."

He turned.

Arthur's eyes were wide and full of concern. "You need to calm _down_." His voice could have calmed a horde of frenzied horses.

Without giving his body the right, Edmund sagged. He relaxed and only then noticed his ragged breathing. The pain in his ribs. His throbbing head. How every inch of him ached. He began shaking almost instantly and folded over. His knees hit the ground and were promptly followed by his forehead.

"Lauviah!" Arthur called. Archer had already left to follow Romel, but Edmund didn't really care.

Was this all a game to him? Romel _had_ to know what kind of effect he had on people. Shock was setting in. What was _wrong_ with these people? He tried to stand on his own, but his legs wouldn't support the weight. His shivers settled in his chest. His shaking inhales turned to whimpers. He gave up trying to stand. Gave up trying to think.

Lauviah kneeled in front of him and started re-examining his wounds. "He needs to be cleaned up." she said to Arthur.

It was Valera who answered. "There's a river not far where people have been getting water. Take him there."

Lauviah and Arthur managed to get him to his feet through a combined effort. Everyone watched him go with concerned expressions. Edmund's head was swimming. He was having a hard time keeping track with reality. Strange faces were flashing in his mind's eye. Faces that seemed so real. A voice of reason, attached to a tall, blond man. A woman with a deep voice – calm, but charged like the ocean – with midnight-black hair. A lovely girl with deep blue eyes and auburn tints in her long hair. The smell of roses, citrus trees and leather. All of it intermixed with pain and wheezing. People he had only known a few days, but who seemed to already know him.

The sense of being undressed and submerged into freezing water.

A hoarse, but kind voice, shushing him. "_Shh, shh . . . I know- I know it's cold! It's alright, Edmund. Don't struggle- It's alright! It's alright. . ._"

He began shivering violently and folded into the arms, encircling him. The memories dissipated like smoke and left behind only the harsh reality. Pain. Cold. Strangers mistaken for family. And in that instant he missed home more than he ever had. But how could he miss something he couldn't remember?

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Aaaaaaannnndd. . .breathe. How was that?


	8. Chapter 8: Despair

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**AN:** Mad props to all you awesome reviewers! I love you guys! :D

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: Despair<strong>

Her family was falling apart. She knew this with the utmost certainty. Seventeen days since her brother had vanished. The kingdom was in a suspended state of grief. Not knowing whether to mourn or remain hopeful. She had chosen not to divulge the details of captain Kanell's findings. They had found the passing and crossed into the mountainous forests behind the Western Wild. Whether they were continuing west, heading north or turning south, she still didn't know.

Princess Eo was keeping her distance from Susan after the young Queen had broken down in front of her two days prior. Susan had practically screamed at the princess. She had apologized since then, but feared she might have irreparably damaged her relationship. Not that she had the emotional surplus to care about that now.

Lucy had been home for a grand total of three days and was already realizing that something was horribly wrong with her sister. Thinking it was sleep deprivation, she had siphoned most of Susan's responsibilities over to herself. That left Susan with nothing to do but sleep in every morning. She would lie awake until the first birdcalls at fake dawn. Then finally fall asleep and sleep until noon.

What she didn't know was that Lucy had sent word to Peter about their sister's state and that he was already heading back. The days dragged on. It felt like years had passed since Edmund's disappearance. Susan would spend afternoons in her room, staring out her window. She could see past the Glasswater marina and make out Stormness Head in the distance. She would take solitary walks in the many gardens that adorned the Cair. At night she would again fall into bed and stare at the canopy of fabrics that hung over her head. She had even considered alerting the Tisroc, but was dissuaded by Lucy.

Her younger sister promised to send couriers to their spies and friends in the Calormen court. Susan felt as though she had been replaced. Rendered useless.

On the second day after Lucy's return, Peter had arrived. The army was seen to and the concerned older sibling went to find Susan after speaking with Lucy. "What's wrong with her?"

Lucy shrugged. "I don't know," She seemed heartbroken over it. "I've tried talking to Liva, but she insists that I should speak with Susan directly."

"How about the ambassador from Terebinthia? Did he leave yet?"

"Yes. He left yesterday morning." Lucy sighed. "She didn't even come down to say goodbye."

Peter stopped and pulled his youngest sister close. "I'll go talk to her, Lu. Don't worry." He kissed her hair and headed for his sister's quarters. This was one of the very last things he wanted to deal with at this point. They had a brother missing, a very fragile victory over the Giants and _now_ of all times, Susan decided to have a breakdown. When he arrived he shared concerned looks with her two Feline guards. He knocked carefully.

"_Enter_."

He pushed the door open and was overcome by an almost palpable smell. It was sweat, mixed with perfume and fresh roses that the gardeners kept delivering on Lucy's orders. One glance at her and every horrible thought he'd had coming here was washed away. Replaced by guilt. "How are you doing?"

Susan was sitting in a chair front of the window. "Fine." she sighed listlessly. "I told Lu to stop worrying, but you know how she is."

She had lost weight. "She's not the only who's worried, Susan." Peter stepped further into the room. Had dark rings under her eyes.

She turned back to face him with a fake smile on her face. "Honestly, Peter. I'm fine."

Peter didn't believe her for a second. His eyes softened with concern and he stepped over at least put his hand on her shoulder. "You know you don't have to hide anything from us."

"I know," she argued weakly. She seemed reluctant to accept the offer of support.

So in true older-brother fashion, Peter tried harder. He reached around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. After a few seconds of hesitation she hid her face in his chest.

"So why do you?" he asked after a moment. "Hide things."

She took a deep, shivering breath and pressed tighter against him. "I'm f-fine."

"That wasn't what I asked." She felt so fragile suddenly. It was not something he could remember about his sister, ever. "I know you would never worry Lucy, but I thought you and I had a deal," His voice was soft and almost pleading. "We talk to each other when something's wrong."

Susan sobbed quietly and pressed closer into the hug.

"Ed's been lost before and he's always come back." Peter knew she heard his worry, but hoped it would at least calm her a little. "Perhaps I should join Kanell?"

"No-" Susan ripped free to glare at him.

"Or send Oreius!"

She sighed and looked like she was about to speak again, but thought better of it. She leaned back against his chest. "Did Lucy tell you who we think took him?"

"Yeah, Telmarines."

Susan sniffed and nodded. "I don't like this, Peter." The air in the room suddenly seemed suffocating. "I want him home."

Peter sighed and shifted so he could wrap his arms around her like a living shield. "Me too."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> A short one, but I'll post another one - a LONGER(Read: Edmund) one - tonight.


	9. Chapter 9: Deadened

**Disclaimer: **Oh Lewis _owns_ - I borrow.

**AN:** Bwrth! Oh dear heavens, no... I fell asleep and slept for four hours (the longest I've slept in two days, People) and I wake up, thinking "naw, I'll wait till tomorrow to update". Then I see the dreaded reviews... *sighs* I find this addiction of mine slightly frightening! But I'm happy to tell you that this story is as exciting for me to write and post, as it is for you to read. Also, we get some answers in this one.

Oh and to answer Dyslexic Nerd: I think Ed gets longer chapters because I find it necessary. For him to have the emotional development I want, I need more of him and slightly less of his siblings. Both because the story isn't about his siblings' worry as much as it is about Edmund and his new friends, BUT also because of the journey he's taking and because I want to give the impression that the actions of his siblings are standard in this instance. They're following protocol (not encluding Susan's little problem). Saying that, there WILL eventually come more chapters with the others. Not just the remaining siblings, but I'm introducing more and more characters and some really interesting badguys as we progress. Hope that answers it. :)

**(By the way, thanks SO much to all the reviewers, in case that didn't penetrate the upper layers of the brain. I really, really appreciate you guys all taking the time)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Deadened<strong>

Edmund was numb. He was sitting atop Star, staring ahead and not really seeing anything. He hadn't had any flashes since they left Kestra. Hardly spoken a word either. He knew Arthur at least was beginning to worry. He wasn't so sure about the others. Romel appeared completely indifferent to the whole thing which only made Edmund even more confused.

After Lauviah had left him and Arthur by the river, he had broken down. He had cried and punched and screamed. Arthur had calmed him down and cleaned his cuts. Since then Edmund felt hollow. It wasn't a very nice sensation, or – he figured – a very healthy one. Shouldn't he at least feel _something_? It had been two days since they left Kestra. It would be four more until they reached another city.

The others began unpacking for the night. "C'mon." Arthur helped Edmund off Star and onto a rock. Edmund would've sworn the donkey watched him.

Romel left to check their surroundings and no one spoke to either of them. Valera seemed to be the only one willing to approach Romel and Arthur was the only one who still spoke to Edmund. Lopsided tents were set up and two fires were lit. A hot meal was set to cook on its own. Stew. _Again_. Edmund stayed on his rock until Arthur came back for him. Star watching and sympathetically lipping his hair.

"You look exhausted," he said, pushing her velvety muzzle away. He guided Edmund to either a fire or a tent, Edmund wasn't sure which, he didn't really care. "Don't you think you should get some sleep?"

"I'm fine," was all he answered. His voice had changed too. It sounded just as hollow as he felt. His wounds _were_ hurting, but not that much. His shoulder had the worst of it. It was sprained and sore. Though he _was_ tired, it wasn't enough for sleep to sound appealing. "I think I'll go for a walk." he said quietly.

Arthur instantly worried. "You want me to come with you?"

"No." Edmund looked around for which direction to take. "That's fine." Just as he picked one and took a step, Arthur held him back.

"At least take this," He held out what looked like a fillet knife for de-scaling fish..._or gutting humans_. "I know you know how to use it." He smiled and thankfully didn't seem offended when Edmund didn't smile back.

He took the knife and left. As he was leaving the camp he heard Hale's calm voice. "_You sure it's wise to give him that?_" He didn't stay long enough to hear the answer.

His longs strides brought him quickly to a small stream. Smooth rocks littered the bottom and the water was sparkling clear. He cupped his hands and scooped up a mouthful. It tasted wonderful. Sweet and cool. He looked in the direction the water flowed from.

"It's a smaller cousin to the Archen River from Narnia."

He looked up and saw Romel standing on the other bank.

He sat down on a rock with a great sigh and leaned back. "Runs all the way through Archenland, that one." His finger pointed in the direction Edmund had been looking.

"I thought you'd never been to Narnia." He didn't really care any longer. He decided it was probably exhaustion. Perhaps he should have listened to Arthur.

Romel chuckled quietly. As he glanced down Edmund saw the first traces of something he had wanted to see since Kestra. Guilt. He stared at Romel's bowed head and pondered how to properly phrase his question. He couldn't. There was no order to the questions on his mind. No perfect way to word them so they would make sense. There was only a great, consuming hunger for more answers. Answers he wasn't sure he cared about any longer.

"I did wrong by you, Ed." Romel finally admitted. He looked up with a sad expression. "I'm sorry."

Edmund just stared at him, unblinking. He scooped up more water and wiped his mouth before he looked back up. "Feel better?"

Romel sighed and looked away.

Edmund decided that he was done trying and rose to leave.

"I've always protected those I trusted." Romel said to his back.

Edmund turned and regarded him cooly. _And I'm not one of them_.

"That doesn't include you," He looked genuinely sad about that fact. "Yet."

"I know," Edmund answered.

Romel's eyes widened slightly before he glanced away again. "I didn't know Harrol had found you in Kestra."

"Was it a test or not?" Edmund asked dully.

"The beating they gave you? No." He tensed. "The beating I let you give him? . . .Yes." His mask of calm slipped back in place.

Edmund nodded, honestly trying to process the new information. "But you still don't trust me?"

Romel looked ready to answer, but didn't. "There's something you're not telling us."

_Likewise_. Edmund stared unblinking at him. "Anything else?"

"Sit?" Romel bade and pointed to a rock across from his own.

Edmund glanced longingly back in the direction of camp. He really _was_ tired. But there was a little nagging voice of curiosity that would never completely die no matter how often it was stamped down. So he sat.

"You asked me a question when we first met. Do you remember?"

Edmund shook his head.

"How did we all find each other." Romel was looking deep into his eyes. Edmund waited patiently without a word until Romel sighed and shifted. "Three of us have known each other for as long as we can remember. We were raised by someone who's long dead now."

"Are you siblings?" Edmund leaned on his knees and ignored the pull in his shoulder. Romel shook his head. "Who are the two others?"

"Lauviah and Hale." Romel explained.

"The two without last names."

He nodded.

"And the rest?"

"They were sought out."

Edmund frowned. "Why?"

Romel sighed and glanced away again. "Have you ever heard of the Irins?"

Edmund shook his head no despite the little flicker at the very back of his mind. If he had, he couldn't remember.

"They were a group of soldiers who fought in a war, no one's ever heard about, some eight hundred years ago." He sighed and seemed reluctant to continue. "It was the last in a long line of battles and the soldiers were tired." He swallowed down what Edmund almost thought to be nervousness. It seemed preposterous that a man like him could ever be nervous about anything. Furthermore, he had never seen him nervous so he really had no point of reference.

"Who were they fighting?"

"Calormenes." Romel shrugged. "Anyone who crossed their path." He shifted to find a better seat. "Then one day the king ordered his men to burn a village after the settlers had refused to join him."

Edmund nodded. "Let me guess. The Irins didn't approve?"

"No. . .they didn't. They refused to fight. The king found out and tried to kill them,"

Against his better judgment Edmund was getting sucked in.

"But they survived. They escaped." Romel's voice had a certain quality to it that made it less suited for storytelling and sublime for hollering out orders. But even despite that Edmund liked the story. "When killing them failed, he had a witch curse them. They would never rest until they rejoined allegiances with the king they betrayed."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Hear it all before you ask." He waved a hand in a gesture of patience. "The soldiers vowed to never again serve any king or queen for as long as they lived."

Edmund nodded.

"But what they _didn't_ realize was that the curse would never really allow them to die."

He shifted a little and frowned. Romel stayed his questions with another wave.

"They would die and be reborn, in a manner of speaking, again and again until they rejoined the king they betrayed." He sighed. "When they realized that, it was too late to take back the vow."

"So why not just swear allegiance to a king and get it over with?"

"They tried. It never worked."

"How about their own king?"

"By the time they realized what the curse entailed the king was long dead."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Why not one of his descendants?"

"Because there was a part of the curse they hadn't expected." Romel had a faraway look in his eyes as he told the story. He started picking at his cuticles. "They had been exiled. They couldn't cross into their old country."

"They tried?" Edmund started rubbing his shoulder absently to relieve tension.

"Many times. And every time they were attacked. It was as if the people of their old home knew not to trust them. Villagers would rise up and slaughter the Irins for breaching their borders."

"Wow," Edmund knew that wasn't really a proper way to respond, but had no better way to put it.

Romel sighed and sat back. He looked almost relieved.

"Why did you tell me this?"

"You didn't guess that already?"

Edmund shook his head. All brain activity had ceased once Romel began his story. Not that much went on at all lately.

"I'm one of them. So are Lauviah and the rest." He sat up again and pointedly ignored Edmund's wide-eyed look. "Each of us are born into different lives, generation after generation, where we live until we start remembering past events."

"Remembering?"

"Like flashes. A lot like the ones _you_ keep having." Romel was staring at him through almost black eyes.

Edmund frowned and realized too late what he was insinuating. He scoffed. "No."

Romel shrugged. "At first I thought you were one of us. We don't always remember what we looked like in previous lives and only know each other from our shared memories."

"And that's why you travel?" Edmund asked.

He nodded. "I've only managed to find a few of us so far. I'm hoping more will come to us." He smirked. "We're a private group, but word gets around none the less."

"Aren't you worried you'll be noticed by the wrong people?"

"We can handle ourselves." He smiled. A genuine one this time.

Edmund frowned when a thought occurred to him. "What did you mean 'at first'?"

Romel frowned. "When?"

"You said 'at first I thought you were one of us'." Edmund wasn't sure how he felt about possibly _not_ being one of them.

Romel shrugged sadly. "Your memories don't coincide with ours," He looked up and something a little predatory slipped over him. "And I'm not so sure you're telling us the truth about what you remember."

Edmund swallowed and tried not to look away. "It's nothing dangerous, I swear." He rubbed his hands together. "Nothing cohesive."

Romel looked down and nodded. He took another deep breath. "Anything else you'd like to know before we head back?"

Edmund's jaw tightened involuntarily. "I want to know if you're ever going to bait me into fighting your battles for you like you did with Harrol."

Romel looked up and again seemed to shrink. "No. Doesn't matter if you're one of us or not," He stood up and crossed the small stream to offer Edmund a hand. "You're still one of us." He smirked.

Edmund accepted the apology and tried not to think too hard that he was still not completely trusted. He tried not to think about what would happen if Romel one day decided he was a threat to them.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Thanks for the notice, dbd823 :)


	10. Chapter 10: Heat

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't shoot!

**AN: **I'm making the desert-walk longer than Lewis does in his books. The reason for that is that I find it extraordinary that one can travel from Narnia to Calormen in just two days. I realize these are small countries we're dealing with, but still... Plus I gotta get in a "few" male-bonding moments and it seems that whenever they're not traveling, they're fighting. Anyone else noticing that pattern?

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: Heat<strong>

They had arrived in Hoc, a town located on the border of the Great Desert, and left two days later. Hoc was mostly populated by Calormenes and Telmarines. Very few actual Archenlanders, which was surprising considering it was within their borders. The main trade there was furs and metal. The mines in the mountains to the west were mined for copper and iron which was processed in filthy furnaces outside the town. Everyone they met was covered in soot. Most looked ragged and skinny.

Edmund asked why they were there. What they hoped to sell. Romel answered that they would sell the skins and furs they had brought from the north and trade them for iron, steel and copper to sell further south. Edmund wondered openly how that could sustain them since they could only sell what they were carrying on their backs. Romel just smiled and kept walking.

That was the first time since joining them that Edmund slept inside. It was a strange adjustment.

Three rooms in a lovely inn in the centre of town were paid for. All of them ate very well that night. They only had a little to drink and all went to bed relatively early. Only Hamied left the establishment, looking for company and Stell engaged a group of travelers in a card game. He skinned them for every last penny by cheating. Once they realized the deception, there was a brief moment of tension before they discovered he had nine companions. After that they accepted their losses and left.

Romel only bothered Stell once about cheating locals out of Crescents. Arthur remarked that it was because he was in a good mood. A few hours before midnight all had gone to bed. Edmund shared a room with Arthur and Hale who both snored, much to his annoyance. With no nocturnal sounds to drown out the noise, it was quite difficult for him to sleep. But rest he did. It was later than usual, but eventually the warmth of his bed lulled him to sleep.

The next morning was spent selling what they could and haggling over iron prices. Their furs were sold to two of the many furriers in town. A few unprocessed bars of copper, steel and iron were bought. It turned out the fur went at a much higher rate than the metal. "Supply and demand," Hale remarked when he passed Edmund with a pouch full of coins. Subsequently they pulled a heavy profit which was how they could afford to pay for rooms.

After dinner Romel pulled Edmund aside. Edmund was suspicious at first, but grinned when Romel presented him with a short sword. Barely as long as his arm. He didn't notice the hesitant look he received before he left to show Arthur. If he had, he would've seen the suspicion that still lingered in the traveler's eyes.

But Edmund didn't and so his high spirits remained untarnished. It wasn't until the second morning, the dawn of departure, when Edmund's spirits dampened a little once again. They had left the town a few hours after dawn. Around noon they reached the edge of the desert. Sand for miles in every direction. Edmund looked back when they crossed into the ocean of sand. Blue cliffs rose into the clouds behind them. He wasn't particularly looking forward to a weeklong trek through the wasteland.

And as suspected, the trip was anything but pleasant. By the second night he had sand everywhere. Not to mention that their water skins were decreasing noticeably with each day. Star was carrying most of the water as well as some of their purchases. The little donkey toiled and battled through the night and slept soundly through the day. Edmund noticed that she kept by his side most of the time. It seemed he had won her favor sometime during his stay with the group. "Whilamina was wrong," he sighed into the harsh wind. It was getting warmer already. The sun was only barely beginning its climb over the eastern horizon. It wouldn't be long until it became blistering.

"What?" Lauviah asked curiously. She was walking next to him. Her way of keeping an eye on him. She was still making her horrible teas and fussing over his wounds every chance she got.

"The lady we bought the donkey from, she told us it was stubborn."

Lauviah glanced at Star and sighed. "Well praise the Prophet she was wrong."

Edmund frowned at her unfamiliar oath. "Who's the Prophet?"

She shrugged. "Just something an old man used to tell us. Never did get around to ask who it was." She smirked and stopped Edmund with a hand on his shoulder. "Break." she called.

Everyone stopped and dropped everything in their hands. Sweat was already beginning to pour from some of them. "First thing when I get to Tashbaan I'm getting a shower." Elijah moaned.

Edmund shared his sentiment. He didn't think he had ever been this dirty. "A cool drink," he chimed in. Elijah shot him a smile as he began setting up.

Romel had apparently noticed that they were exhausted. "Alright, set up! We're done for the night." He began unpacking along with everyone else. Edmund moved to set up his tent and was joined by Arthur. The two had been sharing since Hoc.

"Sit down, I'll get it." he said.

Edmund shook his head. "I'll be alright."

Arthur shrugged and noticed shrewdly that Lauviah was making her way over to them after quickly disposing of her own bag. "You should be resting," she told Edmund.

He sighed and looked dejectedly at Arthur. The red-head just smiled and shrugged. "Maybe she wants to give you more tea?"

Edmund growled, but obediently turned to face her.

"Sit," she said.

He sat on a lump in the sand. Star was relieved of her weight by Archer and Hale. And the second she was, she dropped and continued to get a good roll in the sand. A loud _eee-aww_ echoed through the little camp and made them chuckle. She continued making loud and happy noises to the great enjoyment of all.

Lauviah opened a jar of disinfectant. The one that smelled like ammonia. Edmund frowned, but sat still as she rubbed it on his back. It stung a little, but not badly. The wounds were finally beginning to heal. Not that the desert helped much. The cuts on his face were healing as well. Much better than his back. The only thing that still bothered him were his ribs and shoulder. And for that there was little could be done. Nothing except the teas Lauviah kept forcing him to drink.

"What's for dinner?" Archer called Elijah.

The self-proclaimed and proud Calormene pulled out two shanks of dried meat. "Jerky and porridge." He smirked and proceeded to make a fire. They had brought dry logs with them from Hoc, but most had been used already.

Edmund was looking at his calloused hands and further up his arms. He had bulked up since joining Romel and the others. Must've been all that dragging and walking. All that fighting. His arms and stomach was still pale though. They had avoided the sharp Calormene sun by only walking at night. They would only make camp once the sun was an inch above the horizon. But in that one hour of sunlight he had gotten a harsh burn on his face that was slowly turning into a faint tan. Contrary to the burn, the freckles were popping up everywhere. He didn't want to know how many was on his face. He also didn't want to know how red his nose had gotten. His face and body was constantly hot and burning. It made sleeping extremely difficult.

Lauviah said it had more to do with his wounds that it had to do with the sun. He stubbornly chose not to believe her. He would openly wonder how anyone could live in a place that was _this_ hot. Most of the time the others smiled. Sometimes he was asked to shut up. When that happened he clamped up like a wounded puppy. As they traveled, the snappy comments doubled. It was around that time he decided to just keep quiet for the rest of the trip.

It was no secret that the heat and drought was wearing down the group. The water was halfway gone and the food now solely consisted of porridge. Edmund hated porridge. It had a mild, slightly sweet taste. One morning, as they were eating their meal, he leaned towards Elijah. "What exactly is this?" He gestured with the spoon at the glop.

"Manna made from sweet-grass seeds." He was eating it gladly.

Edmund nodded and returned his focus to the bowl. Having a name for it didn't make it more appetizing. "Manna porridge." It was slightly off-white and sticky. Graney.

He didn't notice the sly smiles Arthur and Valera was shooting from across the fire.

"Manna porridge," he whispered again to himself and scooped up a bite. He looked up sharply when their chuckles broke through his reverie. "What?"

"Nothing," both said. They turned their eyes away and resumed eating.

Edmund frowned a little before he too resumed eating. He realized later that he had begun thinking out loud. Talking to himself more often than not. No one besides Arthur and Valera seemed to have noticed though. He looked at the smile he was receiving from Lauviah as she checked his ribs and frowned. Well maybe a _few_ besides Arthur and Valera. Lauviah smirked and walked away. Edmund eyed the tea she had left him with distain.

"He's getting weirder," Archer growled across the camp.

Romel just huffed. "It's the desert. It plays tricks on your mind. Just keep it civil." He left Archer to fret alone.

"Don't I always?"

Edmund looked up at Archer's call and noticed the tall man staring at him. The two looked at each other for a long moment. None of them spoke, but Archer finally took two steps back and disappeared into his tent. Edmund frowned and decided to get some rest as well. Perhaps he was just worn out? Arthur was already sleeping. The sun was climbing towards zenith. Edmund left the tent flap open and sank onto his covers.

No matter how long they spent in this hell he would never get used to sleeping during the day. He frowned and flipped over to his side to get away from the sunshine.

He lay awake for almost an hour, pondering what Romel had told him. He hadn't informed the others that Edmund now knew about their history. He was trying to tie the new knowledge into what he knew about them. It was strange that a group as diverse as theirs shared something so. . . _life changing_ wasn't even the word.

He began to wonder about what effects a curse like that could have. He saw it very clearly in Romel, Hale and Valera. They seemed to have moved beyond the things that came naturally to most creatures. Sex. Love. Curiosity. Those two, out of the whole group, seemed to have accepted that their lives would only become more monochrome. With every lifetime they would remember every other lifetime. The memories must have made them realize that life was really only worth living if you only did it once.

With a great sucking sensation Edmund realized how happy he was that he wasn't cursed as they were.

He couldn't imagine anything worse than losing his curiosity. Knowing that everything would just be an endless cycle of repetition. As he pondered about the nature of curiosity, he acknowledged that some of the members had yet to lose theirs. Hamied and Archer in particular. They still seemed to have a strong urge to explore. Edmund figured that some of them were simply further along in their emotional development than others.

Piece by piece it all came together. Their skills; their ideas of the world. The strange assortment of names. How they all seemed to fit together, but still remained highly individual. They were a group of soldiers. Edmund was the odd man out. That would take some getting used to, and yet. . .

The relief of not being one of them, _cursed_ like them, almost made him weep. He couldn't even imagine the pain they must have lived through – died of too, probably. He closed his eyes and let a great exhale expand his chest. It suddenly felt good the way his ribs ached. It let him know he was alive, but more importantly it reminded him that he wasn't used to it. He had only had _this_ life to adjust. They'd had several.

The sun had crept to zenith when he finally fell asleep. His peace of mind, restored.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>After this there's a tiny interlude before we start moving forward again. Things are gonne get even more complicated and then they're gonna start happening real fast, so hold on. Thanks for reviewing. You are all little rays of sunshine in my otherwise dull life :*


	11. Chapter 11: Hope

**Disclaimer:** Narnia is the property of C. S. Lewis. Kanell is the property of elecktrum.

**AN:** Thanks for all the kind words, guys.

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Hope<strong>

News had reached Cair Paravel. Kanell and the Wolf scouts had picked up a trail they believed to be Edmund's. It went south through the mountains, into Archenland. The message from the Gryphon courier asked for permission to pass into King Lune's domain. Peter sent a messenger to Anvard the same day, asking the king's permission. The next morning a little Sparrow landed on his windowsill with a piece of parchment attached to his leg.

_"My Dear High King_

_My permission and encouragement is hereby granted. May Aslan's breath lend speed to your men. I have sent my own best trackers to join them. I pray we will find King Edmund as soon as possible._

_King Lune."_

Peter didn't waste any time. He sent a raven to inform captain Kanell that permission had been granted. He urged them to proceed and send word as soon as they found something. He then went to find Lucy and Susan to tell them the news. Lucy seemed oddly calm about the whole thing. When Peter asked her how she was still able to remain hopeful she just smiled.

"I just feel it. That he's ok." She glanced back at him. "Don't you?"

Peter wasn't sure what he felt anymore. He knew Susan was barely hanging on. That she didn't have faith like their youngest sister did. That she didn't have anger fuelling her like Peter did. He was afraid of losing her as well as Edmund if he wasn't returned soon. He found her sitting on a bench in the Willow Garden. The dryads were all sleeping and a peaceful atmosphere was in the air. She was watching a flock of birds chasing each other in the sky. He sat down next to her without a word.

"The hatchlings are just learning to fly," she said.

He followed her gaze. "Susan, do you need to join them?" He looked at her seriously.

She frowned and finally looked at him. "Join who?"

"Kanell and his men?" He wasn't sure he liked the idea of one of his sisters traveling Narnia thin, but it was better than watching her waste away slowly.

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I would only slow them down."

"Then please tell me what I can do."

Her eyes saddened so profoundly he almost wept. "There's nothing _any_ of us can do."

"You look like you've already given up." His ire bubbled to the surface.

She sighed deeply and turned her gaze back to the garden. The weeping willow trees were swaying in the breeze. A rattle of leaves filled the air. No Animals were there that day. None save for a lone Mole gardener who was busy picking ivy off the stems. "I want him back. I know he _will_ come back." She said with another deep sigh. "I just don't know when or in what state."

Peter paled and stared at the side of her face. "C'mon." He stood and offered his hand to her.

"_Where_ are we going?" She sounded so tired.

"I want to show you something."

She reluctantly gave him her hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He dragged them to his chamber and left her standing outside the door, returning with two black capes. No royal insignias, no gold ribbons or laces. Just plain, black capes with hoods. "Peter, what are you doing?" She dropped her shoulders when he thrust one cape into her arms.

"Taking you for a ride through the woods." He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him.

The sun was setting by the time they reached Rush River. Even now, as summer was coming to its end, it was still swelling after the spring thaw. Oddly enough. It would continue to rush wildly into the Dancing Lawn where it would branch out and join with Glasswater Creek. Some of the small creeks would rush east and join with the ocean until winter came. Then it would slow. The smaller streams would freeze, but Rush River itself would not. It was the only river besides the Great River that didn't freeze and no one really knew why. It was the same size as its smaller cousins who all froze over during winter. The naiads swore flirtatiously that it wasn't their doing. Peter had resigned himself to the fact the he might never know. Many things were like that in Narnia.

When they reached the small forest that surrounded Rush River, Peter asked the guards to stay back. He quietly led his sister through a labyrinth of birch and oak trees until they reached a small clearing. As they did they saw the first of a dozen, smaller settlements.

Susan and he dismounted and slipped the hoods over their heads. "Why are we hiding?" she whispered.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to a gathering of Creatures and Animals in a small clearing. "Because I want you to see what your people are doing while you're mourning someone who isn't dead."

If she noticed or cared about his anger, she didn't show. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but followed him. They reached the edge of the group and watched the gathered quietly. The darkness came early and almost swallowed the king and queen whole. Only the lower halves of their faces were visible. Their long cloaks reached the ground and hid their distinctly human features. "Watch," Peter whispered.

As he said it, the first Star came alight in the sky. The Northern Cross. It sparkled and flickered gently down on the clearing, almost as if seeing them. Susan watched in awe as it danced in a little circle for them.

A lantern was lit by a Squirrel. The small Animal began chanting a haunting melody. A melody very similar to the song of creation. She sighed. A second lantern was lit and more Creatures and Animals joined in. They all started singing. Quietly at first. The Squirrel who had begun raised the lantern above his head and released it. Like a drop floating through darkness, it rose.

It was as if the song was lifting it higher and higher. It cleared the trees. Susan's breath came in short bursts. Her eyes filled with tears. As the song reached its crescendo everyone lit their lanterns. They released them in a massive wave of bright lights. Stars were blinking at them almost like echoes of the lanterns. She imagined that the Stars were wondering why so many lights filled the landscape beneath them. Maybe laughing prettily among themselves at the sight.

As more lights rose into the sky, the song ebbed into a slow, steady melody. It was continued solely by a gorgeous, little Doe. As she hit the final note a hundred more lanterns cleared the trees in every direction for miles, illuminating the night sky. Their lights danced along with fireflies. Susan had leaned against her brother when his arm crossed her shoulders. She was crying silently and staring at the display before her. There was a profound sadness in the air. But at the same time an overwhelming feeling of love.

She closed her eyes when it all became too much to bear. The little Doe sang a last verse. When her voice died down, a deep silence filled the night. They watched the lanterns dance higher and further away. No one spoke as they were picked up by air currents, to be carried somewhere far. The darkness in the wake of such glowing light was almost blinding. Creatures slowly began leaving. Mothers pulled their children with them and what amazed Susan the most was that everyone did it in silence.

Only muffled foot- or hoof beats could be heard. Grass prickling under every kind of creature imaginable. Even the crickets had stopped chirping. She and Peter stayed until the last had left. She turned to him in the darkness with tears converting her eyes to diamonds. "I think I'm ready to go home now." Her voice was thick.

Peter wiped her tears away with a thumb and nodded. Nothing was said on the ride home. They didn't reach the castle until early morning. Just as the sun was beginning to brighten the eastern sky. Only once they had relinquished their horses to a stable boy did Susan speak. "Do you think he'll come back?"

Peter smiled and put his arm around her shoulder. "I know he will." As they entered the palace gates, Lucy was waiting for them with a weak smile. In her hands she held a note that she handed to Peter. He frowned as he opened and read it. His breath froze to ice in his lungs as he did. His hands began shaking.

"Peter?" Susan looked instantly worried as well. "What is it?"

Peter looked back at Lucy in disbelief. When he spoke his voice was but a whisper. "He's alive."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Next one marks the end of the peace and quiet. Things are going to pick up in two chapters' time. Can't wait to see what you think :P


	12. Chapter 12: Euphoria

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Narnia, but I DO however... *giggle* -own Hatuf and Sadire.

**AN:** With those words I would like to introduce them to you. Go. Read :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: Euphoria<strong>

They had reached their first Calormene town very early in the morning. It was one of the most dilapidated things Edmund had ever seen. It wasn't really a town, more a sloppy gathering of poorly built shacks. Despite the poor establishments Romel insisted they get rooms for the night – or _day_, as it was. "Why not just sleep in our tents?" Edmund asked. "I doubt the rooms will be much better."

Romel sighed like a man weary of the world. "It supports the local economy and helps out." They trudged up to a slightly larger house on the eastern edge of town. It was limestone as far as Ed could see. White, but partially covered in sand, it looked far less imposing. Small arches, that had once been straight, decorated the façade. The windows pointing out into the street were all small. Romel glanced back and noticed his frown. "Smile, pup. You might just like it."

Edmund wiped the frown off his face when a heavyset man greeted them with a wide smile. He clapped his hands together and did a half-bow for Romel. "Welcome back, _Sidi_."

Romel bowed back and grabbed the man's hand. "Thank you, Hatuf." He looked around the interior with a relieved sigh.

Edmund was doing the same in the back of the group. Though he did it with much more skepticism.

Outside it had looked little better than a mud-hut, but inside was like a haven. Blue and green mosaics climbed the walls in intricate organic designs. The entrance led into an open courtyard with a small fountain. Several finely dressed Calormenes were sitting under the banisters, smoking strange pipes.

"They're hookahs," Elijah explained in passing.

Edmund frowned, silently asking him to elaborate.

"Water pipes."

He smirked and turned his eyes upward. The sky was visible with light clouds passing over now and then. White linen curtains were fluttering in a breeze he hadn't felt outside. It really _was_ like an oasis in the middle of the desert. He realized that was the intention and only loved it more.

"Your usual rooms, _Sidi_?" Hatuf asked.

"Anything you've got is fine," Romel said with a smile. Hatuf pointed them through finely carved wooden doors where a woman was waiting for them. "Sadire will take you." As they passed the friendly host, Valera leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He beamed at her and bowed. When Lauviah passed she did the same and received a bow and a smile as well.

Both women were tall and stunning, but Edmund figured Lauviah looked more exotic to the men there with her blond hair and blue eyes. He noticed some of the gentlemen in the shadows were watching her very greedily and instantly felt a little protective. This was the first time he had ever felt territorial about them. He tore his glare away from the oggling men and saw Sadire.

Sadire was a tall, dark woman with somber eyes. When she smiled it seemed a little sad. She too greeted Romel like they were old friends.

"Who's she?" he leaned in and asked Arthur.

"Hatuf's wife."

"Arranged?"

Arthur chuckled. "No."

Edmund wondered how a woman as stunning as she could ever be interested in a short, slightly fat, bald man like Hatuf. His question was answered when the couple caught each other's eyes across the courtyard. Her smile blossomed and transformed her face completely. He found himself smiling with her. The men were led into a suite with four adjoining rooms. Lauviah and Valera were given a room of their own just down the hall. The suite had a balcony with a view of the eastern desert. Ed could see the clouds rolling over the landscape like whales. A cool wind was blowing into the room and effectively cooling him.

In the centre was a low table with a silver dish full of fruit. Next to it was a hookah stuffed with apple-tobacco. Edmund grinned at the prospect of trying it later. "Edmund, you're with me." Arthur called and entered one of the rooms. It was as pretty as the suite, only slightly smaller. Two low beds were facing a large window. The linens were plain, but clean.

"What are we supposed to sell here?" he asked after having dumped his bag and sword next to the bed.

Arthur didn't bother unpacking and just threw himself on the bed like Edmund. "Hatuf deals with raw metals. Mostly steel. It sells at a high rate out here which is how we usually pay for our rooms."

"And a little raw steel is enough for five rooms with a suite?"

Arthur grinned. "More than,"

Romel announced from the other room that they had the day off. Arthur looked at Edmund with a smirk. "Come." He rolled out of the bed. "I'll show you how you light a hookah." Edmund was pulled into the suite where Lauviah and Valera were already waiting with a few of the others. Archer, Stell and Hamied were as usual missing. Romel as well. Only Elijah and Hale remained besides the girls. "Hullo, ladies." Arthur greeted he and Arthur mockingly.

The ladies were nipping at the grapes and oranges that filled the silver dish. Hale and Elijah were draped across the large couches.

"I promised the pup I'd show him how to properly smoke a hookah." He grinned at the four. "Anyone interested?"

They grinned and made room for him and Edmund. The day that should have been spent sleeping was spent smoking, eating and drinking something Sadire claimed was coffee. Edmund almost choked, it was so strong. As the sun began to set, Romel and Archer returned. A meal was delivered by Hatuf himself and four girls. It wasn't grand, but just that it wasn't porridge was enough. After the meal, Stell returned and joined the group. A new pipe was lit and more wine was delivered.

Lauviah pulled Edmund aside to check on his wounds. They sat in her room, which had a view of the west. More desert, but in the distance once could just barely make out mountains. The sun was large and red as it hovered just above the horizon. "Sit down,"

Edmund sat and lifted his shirt. They had all been given fresh clothes by Hatuf and he was really starting to wonder how much a few bars of steel could buy.

"They look much better. The dry heat has done them good."

"They feel better." Edmund lowered the shirt and accepted a small cup of something strong. "What's this?"

"It's a tonic made from roots that only grow here. It's good for your body, drink it."

She grinned at his petulant frown. "It tathtes howwibwe."

She let out a bubbling laugh and began pulling things out to make a cup of tea. "We'll have to make it in the other room. I don't have a fireplace in here."

Edmund stood and followed her out, still smacking his lips from the foul taste.

"How are the wounds?" Arthur asked when they entered.

Edmund was still frowned and settled for giving him the thumbs up. They chuckled and watched curiously as Lauviah prepared her tea and fed it to Edmund. He frowned again and hacked when he drank it. He had discovered that it tasted horrible no matter what he did and that nothing he ate or drank after could get the taste out. The only thing that worked to some extent was drinking it fast. So he guzzled it down and ignored the burn in his throat. When he removed the cup an involuntary shiver ran through him and made the others laugh all the more.

He smiled and rejoined them on the couches. As the night settled, two girls came and closed the screen doors to the balcony. They asked if there was anything else their guests needed. All declined and the girls were excused. Edmund could feel his eyes drooping and rubbed his face to chase away some of the weariness. "This place really is amazing." he mumbled to the remaining group.

The women had gone to bed, as had Romel, Stell and Hale. Only Archer, Arthur, Elijah and Edmund remained. Hamied was still missing, but no one seemed concerned for him so Edmund let it go. "What's the town called?" he asked.

"Inthz." Arthur answered. "It's right on the fringe of civilization which makes it a great place to put an establishment like this. The only ones who come here are wealthy Calormenes or travelers."

"I noticed some of them downstairs."

A few of their faces sobered, but Arthur kept smiling. "They come here because of its reputation." His smile turned slightly aggressive.

Edmund frowned. "It's reputation as what?"

Only now did his merriment seem to diminish. "A whore house." he answered.

Ed's eyes bulged and instantly flit towards the doors. "You mean those girls. . ."

"Were here to _service_ us." Arthur mumbled and took another gulp of wine.

Edmund's mouth was agape as he stared at the red-head. "But- But they were _girls_."

"Barely reached puberty."

"Each his own," Archer growled and downed his glass. "I'm off. Tell Romel I'm with Hatuf when he wakes up."

"Sure," Elijah answered. He was bunking with Romel that night. He looked over at Edmund who still looked slightly sick. "It's how it is here."

Edmund almost glared and made Elijah cringe slightly. "Have. . .Have any of you. . .ever-"

Both shook their heads. "We come to sell steel." Arthur said as if repeating a litany. "And only that." He stood and disappeared into his and Edmund's room.

Ed looked hopelessly at Elijah. The dark-haired man shrugged. "He never really tells us anything about his life," He sighed and stood as well. "And we never really ask." He left Edmund alone in the suite.

Ed looked around and felt a little lost. Everyone was either sleeping or somewhere else. He rubbed his face and ran a hand through his black hair. It was getting longer. Dark scruff was beginning to cover his chin. He unfolded his hands and studied them. They seemed so familiar, but he couldn't remember what he had ever used them for. Besides fighting. They were warrior's hands. Ha glanced in the direction of the doors. What kind of person was he? The single most terrifying thing he could think was that he was a man who would take advantage of women like that. That he was a man who killed and fought without ever noticing the blood spill.

Was he a callous man? Would his memories turn him into a monster? He fisted his hands and unclenched. He fisted them again and unclenched. He felt strong. It felt natural. With a deep sigh he got up and moved to the balcony doors. He slipped the doors open and allowed the wind to blow through the room. He remembered the feeling of his new sword. It felt like it was made to fit in his hand. He had tried handling it a little for practice. Every move felt comfortable. He could feel the same familiarity whenever he caught or gripped something. He was ambidextrous. Used to using both hands. Both had equal strength and agility.

He wondered who the strange faces from his memories belonged to. He could already now tell that it would be like opening a lid and tipping out the contents. Once overturned there would be no stopping it. So it seemed _this_ was his challenge. To remain who he was or allow for someone else to take over. Someone with pains and desires. Perhaps wildly different pains and desires than his own. Much deeper ones.

He looked into the night sky. The hunting call of a lion caught his ears. They'd heard lions on their way through the Great Desert. He had been scared then, not remembering what a lion looked like. Arthur had drawn him one. It was odd, but after he saw it, it felt almost familiar. Something safe and majestic. A protector. He hadn't told anyone about that, but had kept the drawing. He looked across the light blue sand and at the much darker sky. It seemed as though the stars were sparkling only for him that night. Like silent friends, waiting for him to confide in them. He glanced back into the suite to check it was still empty. He then took a deep breath. "Why am I so afraid to change?"

He looked higher and higher until it almost felt as if the stars were hovering right next to him. But no answer came. He'd never get one. He glanced back into the suite and took another deep breath. With resolute steps he made his way into the room he and Arthur shared. "Are you awake?" he quietly called.

Arthur growled and shifted in the dark. "No."

"Can I ask you something?"

He heard him sigh and sit up. "Sure,"

Edmund carefully slipped into bed and folded his legs under him. "Have you ever been scared of yourself?" Nothing answered him but silence. "Arthur?"

"Yes."

". . .Yes to. . .to my question?" he asked quietly.

"Yes to your question. Several years ago when the memories first started returning."

"And what did you do?" He unconsciously leaned closer though he couldn't see anything.

Arthur sighed. "I learned from my mistakes." He sighed again and Ed could almost _feel_ his stare. "Romel was my general. All of ours. And I was his most loyal soldier."

Edmund swallowed nervously and stared at him through the dark. Romel must've told them all that Edmund now knew about their pasts.

"I followed his commands blindly. Even in the lifetimes that followed. Until one day a memory resurfaced I hadn't seen before."

"When was this?" He was surprised that they were all so comfortable with him knowing. No one had said anything.

"It was almost two hundred years ago."

Edmund stilled and almost stopped breathing. He knew why Romel had explained they were cursed; never able to rest; unable to die. It was so Edmund would gain a deeper sense of understanding. Perhaps to help him become integrated in the group. His previous thoughts from the desert returned and became a whirling mass of new ideas and questions. He had tried to take in everything about them, never realizing how simple it all was. They were _tired_. They aged with each life they led. He was speaking with an old man even though the red-head was barely five years his senior. "I never realized. . ."

"No. Not many do." He scoffed. "Then again, not many _know_."

His eyes drifted down to the slightly lighter shade of his linens. To live for so long. To go through all the same things over and over again. His thoughts from the desert walk reformed. The same, intense relief he had felt in the desert rushed back over him. He couldn't imagine a worse fate than to never die. When did life become worthless? When did it become _torture_? "Lion's mane. . ."

"What?" Arthur's voice instantly triggered something along his spine. A strange fight or flight instinct.

His hairs prickled. "What."

"Why did you say that?"

Edmund shrugged though he knew Arthur couldn't see. "Just a figure of speech?" In the silence that followed he tried not to get nervous. "Are you alright?"

". . .Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." The sheets rattled as he settled back down. "Why did you ask me that question?"

Edmund stared in his general direction a bit longer. The darkness felt a little suffocating now. "I've been wondering about my own memories." His voice had lost its casual tone and taken on a slight pinch. "If I'll like who I was."

Arthur huffed. "Don't worry so much, Edmund. Life's nothing but a series of new beginnings. All it takes is a wakeup call."

"And you're saying my memories might be that call?"

He huffed again and chuckled slightly. "Go to sleep, pup." He rolled over and left Edmund sitting in the dark.

It took a few minutes, but eventually he too settled down and fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Next one is gonna make things even more complicated for you.


	13. Chapter 13: Spirituality

**Disclaimer:** List of things that are mine: Whilamina, Romel and his "pack, Kestra, Harrol-the-pimp/thug/innkeeper, Hoc, Inthz, Hatuf-the-owner-of-a-pleasure-house, Sadire-wife-of-said-owner, Aswaan, Ba'al Dhubab, Emman Tarkaan (whom you will shortly get to know a lot better). I'll let you decide for yourselves if he's a bad guy or not :) - and Star, the donkey.

Things I do NOT own: Narnia and all the glory that resides within. Tehishbaan, Azimbalda, Azaroth, Zardeenah, Edmund, Peter, Susan, Lucy, Kanell, the Tisroc, Oreius and publishing rights.

**AN:** Thank you all so much for staying interested. Here's another one for you. Maybe even two...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13: Spirituality<strong>

They had been traveling east for three days. It was that long since the group had left Inthz in favor of larger cities. They had crossed Tehishbaan on their way to Tashbaan. It was a medium sized city with cobblestone streets and real brick houses. Not to mention the largest ghetto for a city its size. Lauviah had mentioned the city Azimbalda to the south of Tashbaan and how much she wanted to see it again, not having been there for years. Edmund didn't ask _how_ many years. It was supposedly a hub where all roads met and where people of all nations came to trade.

Also it was the main seat of Calormen's governmental postal system, which according to Archer, just meant it was a school for training assassins and government officials. He went on to stress how their little group often operated _around_ government officials. Detailed that as the reason they almost never went there. Lauviah had sulked a little, but perked up when Edmund mentioned his ribs were beginning to ache. Pain meant tea and tea meant something for her to do. She was quite easy to figure out, as was Romel when he sent him a quick smile in passing.

"We're coming up on Aswaan." he called back.

Aswaan was a hub, much like Azimbalda. Only it was a hub of a different commodity. Here was the seat of Tash. The patron god of the land of Calormen, the Tisroc and all his Tarkaans and Tarkheenas. "What about the other millions of people who _aren't_ nobles?" Edmund asked.

"They pray to lesser gods. Some praise saints and others go so far as to create their own religions." Romel answered.

"And the Tisroc allows this?"

"He overlooks it as long as they don't denounce Tash. Plus, it's not really up to the Tisroc to dictate religion. That's the job of the Kahen."

"Which is. . .?"

Archer huffed. "A religious fanatic-"

"He's the religious figurehead." Romel shot him a look. "He's the left hand of the Tisroc and rules alongside the king and the grand vizier."

"But only in religious matters." Edmund concluded.

"Right."

"And Aswaan is his city?"

"Correct again. It's not officially his, but he pretty much governs it, except for the few times the Tisroc visits."

Elijah stepped up next to Edmund. "Fortunately for Al-Jazir, the Tisroc is not a very religious man and rarely comes to visit." He smirked and Edmund smirked with.

"What other gods are there?"

Romel and Archer both sighed, but Elijah seemed to relish the chance to share some of his almost indoctrinated knowledge. "Well there's Azaroth and Ba'al Dhubaab, gods of Fortune and War. Then there's Zardeenah, Lady of the Night and of Maidens."

Edmund nodded, secretly trying to memorize the names. It proved almost impossible and he wondered how Elijah could still remember.

"Ed, there's something you should know before we reach Aswaan." Romel explained and pulled him to the side. "The city is populated mostly with nobles. Most of them are Tarkaans or Tarkheenas."

Edmund nodded attentively.

"But the main thing to remember is that no one comes to Aswaan if they don't believe." He looked the young man deep in his eyes and waited for the penny to drop.

"Do you mean you all believe in Tash?" He glanced around at the others.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say no." He smirked. "After living for several hundred years and still never having seen proof that a god exists I think we've all renounced our previous religions. Everyone 'cept for Elijah that is, but it'll wear off in his next life."

"Heard that!" aforementioned man barked.

Romel chuckled and pulled Edmund closer. "People there believe so hard in their gods that they see all who don't as despots."

"Witches?" The word brought up ugly associations of ice and hate.

Romel nodded. "When we get there you listen to us and don't speak to anyone. Do not, under _any_ circumstance, speak unless spoken to first."

"Understood." Edmund nodded and wondered what exactly was so scary about a city full of priests.

"Good man," Romel clapped his back and moved to the front of the group once again. "Alright. Look alive!"

They reached the city gates in a single file line. No one spoke except for Romel and that was only to the guards. Once inside it was like watching a canvas of beautiful colors open up. People were wearing shawls and tunics in every color imaginable. Fruits spilled over the rims of street-merchants' baskets. Their smells permeated the air. Children were running around, laughing and jeering. Women were airing out their clothes out of high seated windows. _Noble_women were nowhere to be seen. Noble_men_ walked the street with their heads held high and often surrounded by slaves or soldiers.

"Stay with me." Arthur muttered in a low voice.

Edmund couldn't see why they were so scared of such a joyous place. Everything a man or woman could need was right there in the streets. Musicians, magicians, entertainers, preachers, storytellers, traders and dancers. Everyone took up their own, colorful, little section of space. He watched in amusement as two, little boys ran up to him and started pulling his shirt.

"_Sidi, sidi, sidi, sidi_!"

He grinned as Arthur waved them off. "They're beggars. Don't give them anything."

Edmund looked in the direction they had fled, but couldn't see anything but the impressive display of colors everywhere. "Where exactly are we going?"

"To see a subordinate of the Kahen, called Emman. He takes care of Al-Jazir's finances and he's a Tarkaan." he added with a glance back. "A wealthy one at that."

Edmund frowned and unconsciously scooted a little closer to Arthur. He didn't like the sound of his voice when he mentioned the Tarkaan. They moved easily through the streets. Edmund didn't know Calormene customs, but figured that they were all based on a pretty strict hierarchy. If you were any kind of noble you never moved for anyone except the Tisroc. If you were a warrior you never moved for commoners. If you were commoner, or anything less, you moved for everyone.

As if the volume of sound wasn't high enough it suddenly rose and a furious racket of bells and drums filled the air. His theory was hereafter proved.

"It's a litter!" Romel called. "Move." He waved them all to the side and waited patiently as sixteen assorted soldiers, pages and slaves preceded a littler, carrying an elderly woman. She was being paraded through the streets as if she was a gift to mankind.

Edmund noticed how people only stopped because they had to. The second the parade had passed they hurried along with their business. "Who was she?" he shouted over the retreating noise.

"Azeri Tarkheena." Arthur waved him along. "She's the mother of the man we're going to see. If he's just had a visit from his mum, he won't be in a good mood." Arthur reached back and pushed Edmund in front of him. Without noticing, the nine companions had subconsciously formed a ring around him. Keeping the youngest among them sheltered.

They made their way through streets that became progressively narrower. The buildings became taller and the details fewer. Looming. "This is where all the nobles live." Arthur remarked.

Edmund frowned. "Doesn't seem fitting that rich people live here." In his mind weathly people should have been living in bright buildings. Large windows and fluttering curtains that flickered in ocean breezes.

Arthur tipped his head and edited his statement. "The more devout you are in this town, the more beloved by the Kahen. That means more money that you can't spend on looking flashy. It's considered ungodly to flaunt your riches."

"Yeah, but I don't think anyone told the Tisroc that." Valera sneered.

"Here it's more important to prove your loyalty to Tash than it is to display your wealth." Arthur continued.

"And how does one go about proving loyalty to Tash?" Edmund asked.

"By slaughtering as many non-devout heathens as possible." Romel growled from the front.

He didn't see Edmund's face pale. "But _we're_ non-devout heathens. . ."

* * *

><p>Emman Tarkaan was sitting in his favorite chair. He was by the largest window in the room, watching the people in the street. He smirked at a scene that caught his eye. In the room around him sat clusters of exquisite furniture. Most of the tables and lamps were covered in gold plating. Much of the furniture was made from wood one couldn't find anywhere in Calormen and covered in plush pillows in colors that would have made a peacock jealous.<p>

Emman was a self-proclaimed righteous man. A true believer. His house was a place of faith and devotion. Being a close friend and adviser to the Kahen he enjoyed all of the luxuries that brought. He ate only the best food. He drank only the finest wine. He had seven wives and over fifty slaves. But despite his wealth he believed himself to be a humble man. He felt he didn't boast about his riches. He didn't flaunt his wealth. Instead he let his devout actions speak for themselves.

It was in that instant two guards brought up a young man. He was a boy really. Scrawny and stunted due to a lifetime of malnutrition. And on top of that, he had been beaten and deprived of sleep. He was one of Emman's many slaves. "Have you had time to consider your crime?" he asked calmly. Something had gotten under his thumbnail. The one he kept long as a tribute to the Kahen and Tash. It stole his attention from the boy, but wasn't enough for him to dismiss them.

"We cut out his tongue, my Lord." one guard answered. "He cannot speak."

Emman hadn't specifically ordered them to do that, but as he thought about it, it seemed fitting. He nodded, letting the guard know there would be no disciplinary action taken against him. "So, Bish," He glanced at the slave again. "I spoke with your mother and she was very upset with you."

Bish was crying. Crystal tears, dripping down his face. Tears were rolling from his eyes, but he didn't make a sound. He was broken.

"I told her she could have you back, but she begged me to kill you instead."

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Emman smiled when he successfully picked the foreign object out from under his nail. "I told her I do not have the capacity to care for you as my own. I cannot adopt you." He spread his hands to indicate the "lack" of capacity surrounding him. "But rest assured!" He stood with a smile and a flourish. "I have a job that will remain yours for the rest of your life." He walked to a southern window and pointed down. "Down there are my personal stables. Full of thoroughbreds." He smiled again. "There you will have a home for the rest of your life."

He reclaimed his seat and took a sip of the wine. Without looking he shooed the guards and the boy away. He had no mind for slaves and other such nonsense. His mind was only focused on money. _His_ money and the _Kahen's_ money. It was all he spent his days thinking about. He was a busy man.

"My Lord." A servant intruded in this, his private alone time.

"What?"

"Master Romel is here for you."

Emman's head shot up and a smile creased his lips. "Bring them to a lounge. Tell them I will be there shortly."

The servant nodded and ran from the room. Had Emman cared for what others thought, he might have found this behavior odd. As it was, he barely noticed anyone who wasn't there to enrich him or pleasure him. He smiled with glee when he pondered what exotic items Romel might have with him this time. He quickly left to prepare.

In his private quarters was a bath, but he didn't have time. Instead, sprinkling a few drops of flower oil on his person. He stopped just as he was about to change into one of his best robes when a thought struck him. What would Romel demand in return for his items?

Ever since their first meeting in the streets of Aswaan, Emman had been immensely interested in Romel's unique sales. The first item he bought from him had been an antique dagger, once used for ritual sacrifice. Such barbaric practices were hardly ever enforced anymore. If ever anyone was killed it was because of crimes against the state or Tash. And those times there was never a ceremony. Emman had stopped attending the executions for that very reason.

He remembered the last, ritual human sacrifice he had attended. It was when he was still just a boy, with his father. A young woman had been sacrificed to please Tash. He still remembered that day vividly. _Such a waste_, he thought. A woman as beautiful as she would have served the Great Tash better as a nobleman's concubine. Not as a rotting corpse.

It was almost twenty years later he met Romel. The strange man had sold him a few bars of raw copper and that one dagger. In exchange he had demanded sixteen hundred Crescents and ten slaves. Emman chuckled to himself when he remembered the haggling. Romel had left with only five hundred Crescents and nine slaves. What he needed slaves for, Emman didn't know. It was part of the allure that made Romel _ever_ so interesting.

And as always, when Emman housed interesting guests, he made sure they received only the best. He slipped his feet into smooth slippers and quickly left his quarters. Though his house didn't look as such from the outside, it was quite grand. Silk drapes and three feet tall lanterns decorated the halls. Busts of himself and his late father were perched on pedestals. Several paintings of former Tisrocs and deceased family members. Low tables with cushions piled around them in every room. He greeted a cousin of his who was sitting at one such table, smoking a water pipe. Had his cousin been only slightly less dimwitted he would have seen right through the false smiles and courteous gestures. As it were, Hakash saw nothing but the hash-mist that surrounded him.

Emman hurried along so he wouldn't have to inform his cousin who had arrived. Down a hall. Through an empty parlor. Down another hall until he finally saw his destination. Outside two double-doors stood four guards. Two of his own and two of Romel's. A large man with Galmanian tattoos and a _woman_. Emman would never understand why Romel didn't take the two women in his keep as wives or at least concubines. He seemed wealthy enough. Nodding politely to the man and woman, he hurried to the doors. His own guards opened them and he was presented to a room full of people. People whose names he would never bother to learn.

Cutting short the presentations, he rushed up to Romel and extended his hand. The broad backed man offered his own hand in return. He bowed his head and Emman immediately did the same. He had no idea where his sense of admiration sprang from, but knew Romel had to be someone very powerful in his homeland. He wished all his dealings went as smoothly as the ones with him. "My _dear_ friend!"

Emman quickly bade him to sit. He looked quickly around the room and spotted two new faces since last time. A young Calormene man and a boy, barely out of adolescence. Both were armed; though Emman found it hysterical to believe either of them could seriously harm him even if they wanted to.

"What business brings you past my steps?" Emman chose to ignore everyone, but Romel. He was the only one with the enough verbal skills to make it worthwhile anyway. Orphans and street-drabble the lot of them. Not that he would ever disrespect Romel in such a way by saying it to his face. No better to offer an exchange of slaves.

"I have a new load of copper to sell you."

"Ahh," Emman rubbed his hands. "Good. Very good." He leaned slightly forward in expectation. "Anything else?"

Romel calmly shook his head. "No."

Emman felt disheartened a moment before he remembered that his guest was not in the habit of sharing precious commodities or beneficial information. "Perhaps if you think harder?" He stared at Romel, willing him to have something to make all the fuss worthwhile.

"Well. . ." He seemed to consider.

This made the financial advisor unfathomably excited. "Oh, yes. Please tell me!"

"An old man sold me something four days ago. . ." he hesitated. "But I don't know if I'm willing to part with it-"

"How much?" Emman was _sure_ it was something wonderful.

Romel let his eyes sink to the table top. "No. I can't sell it."

"Oh," Emman knew better than to pester this particular guest. No better to set them up for the night and treat them to all the wonders he had to offer. Perhaps if he sent five extra girls this time, they might actually use them. Settling on a plan of action, he smiled and pretended to accept the short stick fate had handed him. "Well if that is all your business?"

Romel nodded.

"Splendid. I will have Khazim-" He turned. "_Khazim!_" A middle aged servant practically flew into the room. Emman turned back to Romel. "Ahh. . . How much for the copper?"

"The usual."

"Very well." Emman tried not to seem _too_ pleased. He turned to Khazim again. "Take three hundred and fifty Crescents from the treasury and bring us twenty slaves."

"The usual is five slaves, isn't it?" Romel asked curiously.

Emman almost giggled. Perhaps he could throw in some concubines just to sweeten the pot. "I am sure your merchandise is more than extraordinary. I must give you a chance to choose from some of my finest workers."

"Actually I prefer children. Orphans if you have any."

Emman knew he preferred weaker specimens. It was one of the reasons he loved dealing with him so much. He could easily give away five of his weakest slaves without missing them. A thought struck him. Perhaps it was not that Master Romel did not like concubines. Perhaps it was that Master Romel preferred male_, children_ concubines. This new notion would require some thought and proper planning.

"Very well." He waved Khazim away without glancing back. "I fear I interrupted introductions earlier." Emman looked over the five of the seven slaves Romel had brought this time. Five of them he had seen before, though he couldn't remember their names. The blonde woman was stunning, but he had learned from past attempts that she was not for sale. The two guards stationed outside would remain nameless as well though he had tried to bargain for the woman several times. All he knew was that she was also _not_ for sale. The red-headed man was easily recognizable as was the quiet one Romel always brought. The only two, out of the seven slaves total, he did not recognize was the new Calormene and the youth.

"I see you have purchased from others before coming here?" He gestured loosely to the dark-haired boy. He seemed familiar somehow.

Romel instantly glanced down. Emman again almost smiled and only managed to stop at the very last second. "I've had him with me since Telmar."

Emman scoffed at the mention of those northern heathens. Almost worse than the Narnians, though their queens _were_ exquisite. "Perhaps we could trade?" Emman looked the young man up and down. He looked like a Calormene though there was something slightly exotic about him. His pale skin and almond shaped eyes perhaps? "Two more slaves and you throw in _that_ one with the copper?"

Romel shook his head without a second's hesitation. "No. The usual will do."

Emman nodded, but allowed his eyes to linger. "What is his name, if I may be so bold?"

"Ed."

Emman frowned. Such a strange name. "Very. . .ahh. . .simple." The boy frowned at him. Emman brushed it off as a matter of misunderstanding. Perhaps the young man had not learned to respect his owner and by extension his owner's acquaintances. Regardless it did not matter. It was up to Romel to punish him in his own time. One did not go about striking other nobles' slaves. Emman glanced towards the doors in a vain hope that Khazim would come barging through, but nothing happened. He turned and smiled superficially at Romel. He smiled back.

Emman's eyes once again drifted to the young man. There was indeed something _very_ familiar about him. "What is 'Ed' short for?"

He didn't notice Romel stiffen. "Edmund."

Emman frowned briefly, wondering. _No, it couldn't be_. . . "Where did you say he was purchased?"

Just as Romel opened his mouth and was about answer, Khazim arrived. Emman would have to punish him later on account of his horrible timing. "Master, I have-"

"Yes. On with it!" Emman growled. Khazim looked momentarily confused, but quickly recovered.

Twenty young slaves, both men and women, were marched into the room and placed in a line. As Romel left his seat to inspect them, Emman found his gaze slipping back the Edmund the Slave. There was something very, very strange about that boy.

"And you said I could choose any five out of the group?"

"Yes, they are all orphans." Emman said absently. The boy had noticed his attention and was beginning to squirm. "Wait!" He held up a hand when his confusion gave way to desperation. He turned to Romel. "I will give you all twenty slaves, plus five for the copper, in trade for _that_ one." He pointed back at the boy, who had gone even paler. Freckles stood out like flies on a white horse.

"He's not for sale,"

Emman eyed an opportunity when he spied hesitation in Romel's voice. "_Thirty_ plus five." Emman was _sure _he knew him.

Romel looked almost fearful. Why would any logical businessman be fearful in his dealings? Did he care for all his slaves as he cared for this boy? Emman decided it was time to establish himself compared to this commoner, no matter how interesting he seemed. He stood and tried to exude the most authority he could. "Think on it till tomorrow. Until then, rest and eat." He gestured to a table that had been set moments after they arrived. "Show me which five you picked and I will have them packed and ready for your departure."

Romel still looked a little disturbed, but nodded. He quickly pointed out those he had picked. Weak individuals. Children of slaves he or his father had bought years ago. Vermin, but still too valuable to just throw into the streets. Emman nodded in return and left the room ahead of the slaves. This would require a great deal of planning. He knew Romel always headed east after his dealings in Aswaan. Always through Tashbaan before he again headed west or north into Archenland. Perhaps if Emman contacted the Tisroc, he could then have what he wanted? He always made sure to get what he wanted, _nay_, deserved!

Those were the thoughts that lulled him to sleep. Surely this lowly traveler could not refuse the noble Tisroc.

_Surely!_

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Right. Now you're probably wondering what the hell Romel is doing bying slaves. Some of you will probably deduce the answer all on your own :) As for the rest of you, I don't actually remember if I mention why he buys them. Guess I'll have to go check up on that? Maybe upload a second chapter? Hmm...?


	14. Chapter 14: Fear

**Disclaimer:** If you can't remember, I might just have to slap you.

**AN:** Yes, I _am_ an attention-junkie.

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: Fear<strong>

The second Emman left the room Edmund felt a rock fall from his shoulders. His blood pressure had climbed dangerously high during their meeting and he had no idea why. Something about the man made him genuinely frightened.

Valera and Archer entered the room after Emman left. "Hale, Hamied, go find Stell and Elijah. See if they've made contact with Dalo yet." Hale and Hamied didn't waste a second before they were off.

"What happened?" Valera asked.

"He tried to buy me!" Edmund almost shouted.

"For how much?" Archer asked.

Romel growled and ate some of the fruit that had been left for them. "Thirty."

"Tell me you took the offer." Archer fired off.

Romel froze just as Edmund practically exploded. "What!" He marched up so he was facing Archer. "You would do that?"

"If it gets thirty people _out of here_, YES!"

Edmund paled a little and backed off. Under no circumstance did he want to spend his life serving _that_ man. "Romel," he pleaded.

Romel looked deep into Ed's eyes before he turned to Archer and Valera. "He offered more for you when he first met you," he said to her. His eyes slid back to Archer. "Should I have sold _her_?"

"No, but he's not one of us-"

"He is just as much 'one of us' as _you_ are!" he thundered. "As _she_ is."

Archer paled a little. Though he was same height and build as Romel he was still very intimidated by the man. Edmund couldn't blame him. "What would happen to me if he bought me?" Edmund asked in the thickest moment of tension.

All eyes turned to him. He noticed Arthur was perched on an armrest, chewing a thumbnail raw. Romel sighed. "He would probably send you to work around the house. Maybe even pay for your training to become a guard."

"I didn't like the way he was looking at him," Lauviah confessed.

"What way?" Valera asked.

"Like he was a prize." She glanced at Edmund. "Like he wasn't a human being." Edmund had adopted a similar posture as Arthur. Slightly curled in on himself, chewing a nail.

"That's how he looks at everybody, 'Via." Romel rumbled quietly and grabbed another piece of fruit.

"Which is all the more reason to get more people out of here." Archer tried. The glare Romel sent him wasn't quite enough to get him to back down this time. "I'm just saying."

"Say it to yourself," Romel bit out.

"Maybe he has a point," Valera tried. Edmund's eyes skipped to hers so fast she almost looked surprised. She held out a hand to wave off his arguments. "But maybe it should be one of us?" She looked at Romel. "Maybe me or Lauviah-"

"No."

"Romel, he would willingly trade you a hundred slaves for the two of us. Throw in that little trinket Hatuf sold you and he'll be eating out of your hands."

"And what do you think he'll do to you the second he's got his hands on you?" His voice had lowered to dangerous growl which made the question sound more like a threat.

Valera glanced away, but Romel followed her.

"He'll _rape_ you."

She had fixed her eyes on a point just above the floor and refused to look away.

"He'll do to you what no one should ever have to suffer through, just to prove that he's a man." He turned back on Archer with a feral snarl. "_That_ is why we _never_ sell anything beyond metal to him." Romel started pacing. "Anything that's alive he kills." Back and forth, back and forth. From one wall to the other. "I'm going to join Hale and Hamied. You four, stay in this room!"

"Is it safe for you to leave us here?" Edmund called frantically.

"He won't try anything as long as he doesn't own you." Romel strapped his sword and a wallet to his hips. "Just stay in this room."

The door slammed behind him and submersed the room into silence. Valera was the first to break it when she sighed. She took a seat around the table and began eating. Lauviah followed rather quickly and sat down. She was staring blankly into space. Archer huffed and left the room with a muttered curse.

"Where are you going?" Arthur called.

"To keep watch!" he barked back and slammed the door behind him.

The silence settled again. Edmund was given a nudge in the back by Arthur. "Might as well eat," he said with a smile.

Edmund tried to smile back, but found it hard considering their precarious situation. If anyone walked into the room, anyone who _didn't_ fear Romel, the four of them would have to fight. Not that Edmund was afraid of fighting, but he had a horrible feeling that it could lead to something much, much worse. He took a seat and started eating the food without tasting it. Valera was next to him, doing much the same. It wasn't until he glanced at Lauviah he snapped out of it. She looked downright terrified.

"My ribs are hurting again," he lied. It was surprising how quick the lie came to him. How convincing he was.

She frowned empathetically and leaned forward to feel his forehead. Arthur knew exactly what he was doing and sat back with a smile. "Well you _do_ feel a little warm." She frowned. "It could be shock."

"Or it could be Black Fever," Arthur helpfully supplied.

"Hush," Valera chastised and slapped him on the arm. He chuckled and Edmund chuckled with him.

"Would you like some tea?" Lauviah asked. She had already gotten out of her seat.

Edmund swallowed. He really, really didn't want tea. "Yes, please."

She smiled and petted his head in passing. A small, red fireplace was perched on lion feet in the corner. She brought a pot to the boil and began preparing tea. "Well done," Arthur whispered and smiled even wider.

Edmund returned it and sat back in his chair. It was remarkably soft and he relaxed almost instantly. A cup of tea was put in front of him in a matter of seconds, along with a pretty smile from Lauviah. She reclaimed her seat across from him and waited patiently for him to drink it. It actually didn't smell as bad as the others she had made him. He almost smiled into the cup. Right until the nasty substance hit his tongue. With a longing glance at Arthur's wine he downed it. His frown made the two across from him giggle.

Valera was still submerged in her own mind. Lauviah sobered with great effort and accepted the cup when he handed it to her. "More?"

Edmund shook his head while trying to swallow down the last of the tea. "Wine,"

Arthur let out a genuine laugh and laughed even harder when Lauviah sighed. "Just give him the wine, darlin'. Trust me, he can take it."

The afternoon was spent much the same way with the four of them talking and drinking. No one drank enough to let it cloud their senses. There was still a sense of danger in the air. When the evening meal arrived Archer came back in. He had cooled down considerably and even managed to laugh along with some of the jokes. It was just as the group had almost finished their meal that the doors opened. Edmund was about to give a lecture about privacy and the importance of knocking, when he remembered they were supposed to be slaves. Slaves with no rights, other than those given to them by their owner.

An owner who wasn't there.

"Has Master Romel returned?" the servant from earlier asked. Khazim his name was.

"Not yet." Valera answered. She stood up and managed to intimidate the servant just a little.

Edmund was quickly getting a feel for the hierarchy among slaves. The highest were those who were most entrusted by their masters. Those who spent the most time with their "owners". Below those, were the soldiers. Below the soldiers was the general house staff. The only ones who seemed to not have a fixed place in the hierarchy were the concubines. They could be lowest of the low, but could also be just one step shy of wife. They could have their own servants and girls to wait on them or they could be one of the girls waiting on the wives.

Khazim clearly belonged to the first group. He was the most trusted by Emman. More finely dressed than most of the others. "My master wishes to speak to Edmund." he said.

Edmund instantly felt his skin freeze. His stomach curled in on itself and a fever spiked in seconds. This shouldn't be happening. This _couldn't_ happen. He swallowed and tried frantically to think of some way for this _not_ to happen.

Valera saved him by stepping in between him and Khazim. "No one speaks with Romel's servants without him present."

"I have no choice, madam." Khazim stepped aside to allow two guards into the room.

Edmund saw the others tighten their grips on miscellaneous weapons. If this turned into a fight they would lose the five slaves. Five children who would be forced to spend a life in servitude. "Wai-Wait!" Edmund nearly choked on the word. He reached out and pulled Valera's arm down. "I'll go."

"No you won't." Valera said calmly. She was holding her stance and looked more lethal than he had ever seen her. Perhaps it was something with the dimmed lighting and the way her slit robes wrapped around her legs; the hold of her shoulders and the way she could stare down men twice her size?

Edmund got in between her and Khazim and pressed down her arm. The arm gripping her sword. "Yes I will." He looked into her eyes and willed her to understand. He wouldn't be the cause of five lives being ruined. They had the power to help them. Wasn't it their job to do so when no one else would?

With a minute tick of her brows it was as though she read his mind. Her arm relaxed and her shoulders dropped a little. Edmund released her and turned with the most dignified expression he could muster. "How long will it take?"

"As long as it takes." Khazim answered with a courtesy. He waved Edmund out the door and followed two steps behind him.

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><p>Emman was sitting in his chair. His leg was bobbing up and down and one hand was clutched around his trimmed beard. This wasn't possible. It simply <em>wasn't<em> possible! He had sent a courier to the Tisroc, but that wouldn't arrive until the beginning of next week. He had to make this decision on his own. He knew how the Kahen felt about the Narnian barbarians – for that was indeed what this _Edmund_ person was. He was in fact King Edmund the Just. Leader of legions and ruler of that blasted wilderness to the west. He was a master of swords and a devout believer in his heathen god.

Emman could respect devotion, only not when it interfered with his own beliefs. There was only one true god and to claim otherwise was blasphemous and punishable by death. The Kahen would agree, but he had a feeling the Tisroc would not. The Tisroc had a better sense of politics than anyone gave him credit for. If he had the boy killed here in his house, _tonight_, a world of trouble would rain down upon him. If he didn't he was liable to be punished by Tash in the world beyond this. He had knelt earlier that night, when he first realized who this supposed _slave_ was. He had prayed to Tash for guidance, but nothing had been forthcoming.

They said wise men spoke to god. Only fools expected god to speak to _them_. Perhaps the correct action to take was a consultation with the Kahen. He nearly leapt out his chair in relief. Yes, the Kahen would know what to do. And yet he hesitated. Had it only been his belief and loyalty to Al-Jazir that mattered, he would have killed the boy here and now. But there was someone much more powerful to consider as well. The Tisroc. Because no matter how much Emman loved his god, he loved his life more.

His things, his home. Even his wives, though they all had nasty tempers. He wanted life more than he wanted eternal bliss. Eternal was too far into the future to worry about. Life was _now_. So instead of only informing the Kahen he informed both rulers. He expected he would receive an order to go to Tashbaan soon. The Kahen probably would as well. He grimaced. He absolutely _hated_ taking long trips.

He only did it once a year to celebrate the autumn feast. It suddenly occurred to him that was where he had seen the barbarian king before. He and his dark-haired sister. Such a beautiful, but cruel queen to dismiss a fine, young man like Rabadash. He remembered the fleeting glance of King Edmund's face during the reading of the Rite. A story only told once a year, to inspire faith and devotion in the great Tash. He remembered flashes of his face through the crowds. Everyone had known who he was then.

He also remembered the debacle that ensued the next year. The Tisroc's son had left on a somewhat noble endeavor to ensure the queen's love. He had been missing for a year until the next autumn feast. Emman had hardly believed his own eyes then. A donkey had barged into the temple and had nearly been killed before it reached the altar. But there it had kneeled and as seconds ticked by, transformed into the same lost prince. Rabadash.

The Kahen had wanted to declare war against the demons in the north, but the Tisroc had, in his wisdom, refused. Emman was certain of many things. One of which was that a war would have ruined him. The Kahen as well. No. War was better left for the Tisroc to declare and fund. The Kahen had refused to acknowledge Narnians ever since. Every invitation to Tashbaan was followed by the question "Will the barbarians be there?" And the Tisroc was only so patient. Emman felt certain there would come a point when their wise ruler had enough of Al-Jazir's old ways and appointed a new Kahen.

Emman secretly fancied himself a beaming candidate. He only had to think of way to inspire the Tisroc without being too obvious. This boy king could be just the thing.

The thought of Edmund brought up, not only the approaching meeting, but also the manner of the king's deception. Surely he wasn't foolish enough to think he could waltz through Calormen and not be recognized. But when they had met ever so briefly the boy had seemed genuinely unaware of his own stature. His own worth. _Could it perhaps be something else then_, Emman wondered. If the king was not here under falsehood and with mischievous intentions, could he really then _not know_ he was king?

Emman entertained that notion a moment. It was easily tested. A king could only be pushed so far. Only be tyrannized to a certain point. A slave would suffer far more humiliation than a king ever would. If this boy had no notion of his own worth, then maybe, just maybe, Emman could control him. Romel would have to be dealt with when he returned, but that could wait. First he had a king to see.

And so it was that when Edmund entered Emman's quarters, the god-fearing, financial advisor didn't see a king. He saw a slave.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Hope that answered why Romel suddenly appeared to be in the slave-trading industry. If not...well... boo you :) Let me know what you thought of it. Oh and this will probably be the last one for a couple of days. I'm heading off to spend time with my visiting parents. They take so much looking after...


	15. Chapter 15: Procrastination

**Disclaimer:** Don't have more than what amounts to twenty bucks in my account right now, otherwise I would've _bought_ the damn publishing rights!

**AN:** As you've noticed by now, Dear Reader, I'm back sooner than expected. Turned out my presence wasn't needed so I'm free for now. This chapter functions as an interlude before a very disturbing next chapter. Yes this IS a **WARNING** for those of you reading. The next chapter features graphic descriptions of torture and violence. Sorry for those who may be offended, but in my defense, it's necessary. I've tried to research the type of torture (there's "only" one) for it to be the most realistic. It's graphic...I said that already. Alright, well maybe I'm overexaggerating. I guess I'll have to wait for your reviews after the next update.

And I _deeply_ apologize for abusing a variant of your name, CrazyDyslexicNerd. Please, will you be ever so kind as to forgive me? *pouting puppy-face*

**Q&A:** I've come across an interesting dilemma. There are things I would have liked to have in this story that I just couldn't find space for. For this there are two solutions: 1) Write it in anyway and wrap the story up, or 2) write a sequel. Which do you prefer? I'm seriously considering option 2. Lemme know what you think in review-box.

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: Procrastination<strong>

"How much longer?" Peter called to his general. They were traveling at a brisk pace.

"Not much, your majesty." Oreius promised. Anyone who looked at him would have seen a picture of calm. Only those who knew the general well enough could tell he was terribly exited and worried.

The note that had been delivered into Lucy's hands two days prior had come from captain Kanell. He and his party had crossed the Great Desert into Calormen without permission from the Tisroc. Peter had instantly sent word and promised the Tisroc that he was not mounting an attack. Nearly an exploration, to bring home the runaway child of a prominent Narnian family. He hoped the Tisroc was disinterested enough to believe him.

Susan had, despite her intense desire to see her brother, informed that she would _not_ be coming along. Lucy would go and Susan would stay and oversee things at home. Peter suspected she felt it was her role to perform and hated it had come to that during their reign. He also suspected it had a lot to do with Rabadash. He had been un-Donkeyed and restored to his former position. He doubted she ever wanted to see _him_ again.

And so it happened that Peter was traveling past Anvard, through the Great Desert in search of a brother that had been missing for about a month. Captain Kanell informed that people in border towns had seen a party traveling through with a young man, fitting Edmund's description. He mentioned he had spoken with a very shady figure named Harrol, who claimed that Edmund had attacked him. Kanell had compiled all this information without giving away it _was_ in fact King Edmund the Just. Never once. He knew his kings' lives would be in danger the further south they traveled. Peter was only safe because he was with a crew of finely trained soldiers. Edmund was out there alone.

The rumors of Edmund attacking shady characters in small towns eliminated any questions regarding his physical health. It did however raise questions about mental health. If he was traveling with people who hadn't forced him along, why was he still with them? Why hadn't he come home? Peter had convinced himself that something was preventing his brother from leaving. He hadn't gone so far yet as to delude himself into thinking his brother was any kind of prisoner. Edmund was better than that.

He had however gone in the opposite direction and blamed himself. _What did I do wrong? _He had managed to convince himself it was somehow his fault that his brother left in the first place. _What could I have changed? _If he had only listened and not taken so much of the guard, _then more of them would be lying dead by the banks of Telmar River now_. If he had reconciled with his brother before departure then maybe Edmund would have waited for him to come back, _or left anyway – as is his nature_. He planned on giving his brother the shouting of a lifetime once he found him, but that was only because he had silently been berating himself ever since he heard of his disappearance.

He tried to focus on accounts that said his brother was alright. Tried to imagine him laughing. That was all that mattered. Everything else could be dealt with once Edmund was home safe.

Lucy sided up next to him. She had the same focused look in her eye as when she was riding into battle. Edmund had described it to Peter the first time he had seen it. It had been the year of Rabadash's invasion of Archenland. Once Peter returned from the north Edmund had gladly gone into detail about their sister's courage and strength. Ever since then Peter had stopped taking it for granted that she would stay home during wartime. He had never yet outright invited her to join, but always left the door open for her, should she want to. She had. Several times.

It was no less than he did for Susan, but his somber and gentle sister seemed less inclined to pick up a weapon. He smiled. It was fortunate she was such a practiced conversationalist then. Soft warfare, he called it, whenever she would disarm fat nobles with a few well placed words. Edmund had the same skill beyond his skills with a blade. Lucy too, had both.

He suddenly realized why Edmund and Lucy had more land to govern than he or Susan. More land wasn't precisely put, but it was a correct account never the less. Lucy had a whole, undiscovered eastern ocean. Edmund had a wilderness to the west. It was like Narnia had been designed for his youngest siblings. He and Susan were the protectors. Susan, the diplomat who struck up friendships with the southern countries; who cared for their home and did it better than any before her. Peter who protected their borders to the best of his abilities. Edmund and Lucy were the explorers, the diplomats, the warriors. Peter and Susan were their proud guardians.

He smiled and unknowingly garnered his sister's attention. She smiled and urged her horse faster. It was a massive war-mount King Lune had given her a year after the Archenland invasion. Not a bay like Peter's, but black. Strong legs and a colossal body. It was slightly taller than Peter's, as well as faster, but Lucy had no trouble controlling it. Ever since her first day, she had ridden that horse just as well as the little palomino that died a year back.

Tusk was its name and it seemed to fit. Forelegs bulging with muscles and an unstoppable need to always run faster. It fit his sister. Like a black arrow across the yellow sand. Lucy perched on its back with blood-red, gold-laced gowns flowing in her wake. He smiled as she passed him in her need to find their brother. He had never been prouder.

He closed his mind from all the horrible scenarios that plagued it. Instead he urged his horse to run faster. Tashbaan was only two days away.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Next one up soon.


	16. Chapter 16: Action

**Disclaimer:** No one owns anything with one hundred percent certainty. But I can tell you all right now that I _know,_ with 100 % certainty, that I do NOT own Narnia.

**AN:** **1)** WARNING: This chapter features graphic descriptions of type of torture known as "stress positions".

**2)** I apologize for not updating last night as I planned, but the site was down.

**3)** The question from last chapter still stands, though circumstances have now changed. The things I wanted in this story will either be written out completely or put in a sequel. Which do you prefer?

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: Action<strong>

Edmund's heart was pounding under his chest. Two guards opened the door that led to Emman's private quarters. When he entered he was greeted by five guards, placed imposingly around the room. In front of every exit. Emman was sitting in one of two chairs in the middle of the room. He wore a pleased smile and looked utterly hospitable. But Edmund knew better. "You called, Tarkaan." He did a little bow, remembering he was still supposed to be a slave.

Emman's smile grew. "Yes. I've been expecting you. Please. Sit." He gestured to the empty chair. It was strategically placed with its back to the door.

Edmund sat with his hands in his lap. He looked around the room with a sinking feeling. His sword felt like a led weight on his hip. Cumbersome.

Emman smiled just a little wider. "Romel has returned a while ago and I have spoken with him privately."

Edmund swallowed.

"He has agreed to a trade."

His blood was rushing to his face. He knew that to be a lie. Even if Emman had somehow managed to keep Romel away from them, he could never have pressured him into making the exchange without telling Edmund first. _He wouldn't_.

"You look surprised," Emman calmly pointed out.

Ed half shook his head and looked down. "Not at all." He gave a little nod. "There are some things I will need to return to Master Romel before he leaves though."

"I figured your sword was one he lent you." Emman agreed. "I will take it to him."

_No no no NO!_ "I would rather do that myself, my Lord. Only to ensure it falls into the right hands."

Emman had begun frowning the instant Edmund opened his mouth and was out of his chair before he had finished the sentence. The slap the he gave him echoed through the room. Edmund's head shot to the side and a hand went protectively to his cheek. He instantly shrunk into his seat. An attempt to look smaller and less imposing.

"You will not defy me, _slave_. One of the things you will learn very quickly is that disobedience is severely punished in this house." He never raised his voice, but it had a slight quiver like excitement or even panic. He looked down with wide eyes.

Edmund was quickly recovering from the shock. Anger was shooting through his body. How _dared_ this man strike him! He raised his eyes and glared the best he could. For a second his new "master" seemed intimidated. "Forgive me. . ._Sire_." he growled.

Emman recovered from the strange shock and reclaimed his seat. "I see training will be needed. I cannot release you into this house if I cannot control you." He clapped his hands and two guards stepped forward. "Take him to see Molina. She will know what to do with him."

Edmund certainly didn't like the sound of being trained like some dog. He was out of his chair before the guards could reach him. He barely had his hand on the sword before a guard grabbed him from behind. The three guards wrestled the sword from him. He jerked and tried to free himself, but nothing worked.

Emman looked on in abject horror. "I see now that you are little more than an animal. Proper training will be required." He gathered his robes about him and left the room through one of the many side entrances. Edmund struggled in their grips and bellowed out his anger. Every curse he knew was spat in their direction. He ripped his arm free and even managed to elbow one guard in the nose before a blow to the side of his head made the world blur for a few moments.

He was dragged out of the room. Just as they entered the hall he saw more guards blocking one direction. Valera, Archer and Arthur trying to get to him, from behind them. Edmund buckled and shouted for the guards to release him

"Edmund!" Arthur cried. One guard sank to the floor in a boneless heap and Edmund had no doubt he was dead.

"Get Romel!" he screamed as the guards dragged him further away. More guards were arriving to stop his friends from reaching him. And in such small quarters it wouldn't take many to physically block the hall. "Find Romel!" he cried again.

The guards' grips on his arms hurt. He was dragged roaring and struggling all the way to the first floor of the house. The cries of his friends and the sounds of their struggle slowly dimmed until all he could hear was his own ragged breathing and water dripping down wet walls. Blood was still pumping furiously through him. He was in a cellar. Narrow windows under the ceilings and a earthen floor. The smell of moisture, earth and blood lingered in the air.

Three guards were still manhandling him. He struggled and let out an involuntary yelp when he was forced into a room. Two chains hung from the ceiling. In the corner lay a wooden beam with irons attached. His shirt was removed with little care for his previous injuries. He was forced onto his knees and had the beam placed on his shoulders. His arms were led around the beam and fastened in a position that almost instantly made his fingers tingle. He was breathing irregularly and shaky.

He was pushed back and his boots were removed. Then placed erect and pushed to a squat. He tried to stand up again, but was shoved back into a squat. "Stay." one guard ordered. Edmund noticed he had picked up a stick and was sure it would be used to threaten him into compliance. He stayed. A second guard retrieved a rag from the corner and bound it around his eyes. If he thought the beam made the squat difficult, the blindfold made it next to impossible. Without notice he would start to tilt or sway. A boot would shove him back into place.

Footsteps echoed and he wondered if the guards had left. He tried straightening, but was shoved down. "Stay on the ground." the guard ordered.

Edmund could already feel pain blossoming in his knees. It was still only a dull pain. One he didn't necessarily associate with torture, but he had no doubt it would soon become extremely painful. His breathing slowed and didn't sound quite so loud in the empty room anymore. He was still shaking and realized it was as much from the damp cold as it had been from shock. _That_ wouldn't likely change while he was down here.

How long he spent in that cellar, strapped to a beam, forced into a very stressful position, he didn't know. It wasn't long until his mind began to wander. It wasn't long before he realized he was in too much pain to think. Again and again he tried to stand only to be shoved back into the same, painful position. Every inch of his body was shivering. Not from the chill any longer. Sweat was pouring from him. He shook because of the massive strain on his muscles. He was constantly wavering and unconsciously trying to stand. The pain was excruciating. Hours had to have passed. His breathing became whimpers not long after the pain became too much to ignore.

_This_ was torture. And the worst part was that nothing happened. The guard didn't make a sound. Edmund could barely hear his breathing over his own. There were no sounds other than the faint echo of his whimpers; other than the drops of water that continuously hit the floor.

An eternity later his legs began to shiver so violently it was affecting his breathing. With every inhale his chest shook. He was even aware of passing out at some point, but was quickly woken and repositioned. "Pl-Please. . ." He didn't recognize his own voice. The guard didn't answer. He didn't mock him or make any kind of sound to suggest he was still there.

Tears slowly whetted the blindfold. His breathing became even more labored when he began sobbing. He was so tired. It was about that time, not long after he had begun crying, that a woman's voice filled the void. "That's enough. Sit him down, please."

The guard lowered him to the ground and left. A tapping of heels echoed through the room in his absence. "Please. . ." Edmund begged. His back ached from the suddenly release of the painful position.

The woman kneeled in front of him and removed his blindfold. He squeezed his eyes shut from the faint glow of a lantern, but quickly opened them again. The woman was Calormene, probably in her mid forties. She watched him through soft, brown eyes that showed no emotion at all. "Can you tell me your name?" she asked calmly.

"Ed-Edmund." He looked at her with unabashed gratitude. He was still crying softly. Sniffing.

She shushed him and ran a hand down his face. "Edmund, I'm Molina."

"Please let me go," he whimpered. His voice refused to rise above an exhausted whine. Just then he became aware exactly _how_ tired he was. "Lemme sleep," His voice was thick.

She shushed him again and rose from her perch. She left the room and the guard came back. Edmund's face scrunched up in a pitiful frown and he whimpered when the guard picked him up. Another guard entered and helped fasten the beam to the two chains in the ceiling. All of it without uttering a single sound. The second they released him he sagged. His feet were scraping the floor and every bone in his body quivered.

After the extended time in a crouched position, this was torture. Every inch of him ached. His feet were so cold he could no longer feel them. His hands had gone numb several hours ago. His shoulders, arms and wrists were burning. He didn't know how long he had been trapped there, but hoped it would end soon. That he would be allowed to rest. Molina re-entered as the guards left. She stood across from him with an unreadable expression. "Wh-Why are you doing thiss?"

"To break you." she answered simply.

Edmund's eyes filled with tears again. His face wrought itself in a frown. He was already broken. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Molina watched him carefully with her hands demurely clasped in front of her hips. "Who are you, Edmund?"

He whimpered and desperately tried to relieve some of the strain in his shoulders. Nothing worked.

"Who are you?" she asked again when he didn't answer.

He sobbed and took a deep breath. "I'm-m a slave." His voice was a pitiful impression of what it had once been. Everything he did was in an attempt to look submissive.

"Are you sure?" she asked curiously. Still she stood calmly in front of him.

He tried to stand, but felt miserable when his legs wouldn't hold his weight. He let out a pitiful yelp. "N-No."

Molina nodded and left the room. She returned a moment later with a bowl of water. She held it to his lips and he drank greedily. The water spilled over the edges and down his torso, but proved a nice distraction. He swallowed as much as he could before he felt sick. She removed it and took it out of the room again. When she returned she took her old position in front of him. "If you are not a slave. . ." She waited till he looked up and caught her eye. "Then what are you?"

His face scrunched up again and he shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered.

"Are you Calormene?"

"No," He shook his head.

"Are you Narnian?"

He was about to shake his head, but stopped. He wasn't sure. He wanted so desperately to say yes. Something in him wanted so badly to go home though he had no idea where home was. It was an inconsolable longing. A yearning to feel fresh air on his skin. Familiar faces he had no real way of recognizing. "_Yes_." His voice was still a whisper, but something more than pain and longing wanting to be conveyed. It was a wish to return home. A desire he wasn't sure was real, but one he had no trouble entertaining as a genuine need.

Molina left the room again and brought the guards back in. They unlatched him from the chains and lowered him gently onto the cold floor. He started crying again when every muscle in his body unclenched except his shoulders. He was still strapped to the beam. Molina stayed as the guards left. "Who do you serve then?" she asked. "If you are Narnian."

He shivered and had to fight to stay awake. "I serve you," He wasn't sure what she wanted to hear, but guessed it was something of that nature. He froze when a sad frown slipped across her face.

"_Hadras_." The guards re-entered and lifted him from the floor. He cried out when they strapped him back onto the rack. "Do not lie to me, Edmund. I am not your master." She stepped up to him and cupped his face. "I am your friend." He tried to look away, but she followed him with her eyes. "Tell me," she whispered. "Who do you serve?"

His eyes flashed. A flicker of gold. A lion. Bold and magnificent as anything he had ever seen. "Aslan." he sighed.

She smiled and called the guards back in. "_Hadras_." They took him off the rack and lowered him back onto the floor. Moving hurt, but it was better to be lying down than hanging.

_So all she wants i the truth?_ He felt both comforted and fearful of that realization.

"Tell me about him." she asked. She kneeled next to him and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

It felt so comforting. So nice. "He's a Lion."

"Is he a normal lion?"

"No," Edmund sighed and closed his eyes when she began rubbing his sore shoulders gently. "He speaks."

She smiled. "That sounds very strange."

Edmund smiled with her. "It was at first." She moved her hand over to his left shoulder and began massaging that as well. "But he forgave me." He wasn't sure what had been forgiven, but remembered a Lion's kiss and a daunting sense of relief.

She nodded as if she understood completely. "Do you love him?"

Edmund smiled. "Very much." He felt very close to falling asleep.

She smiled and brought her warm hand to rest on his forehead. There she began rubbing her thumb in slow circles, almost making him fall asleep. "How much do you love him?" She leaned back into a slightly more comfortable position, still rubbing slow circles on his forehead.

"With all my heart."

She nodded. "I think I have heard of him."

Edmund smiled.

"Tell me, do you know of Tash?"

A flash frown. "Yes."

"And how do you feel about _him_?" Slow rhythmical circles.

"I hate him. . ." Edmund was very close to real rest.

She frowned. "That is most unfortunate."

Edmund slowly opened her eyes when she removed her hand from his forehead. "Why?"

Without a word she stood up and left the room. She closed the door behind her and he heard the lock turn. No guard entered in her wake. No one came to hang him back on the rack. There was nothing but silence.

"Molina?" he called. He tried to move, but his body still ached. A door slammed in the distance. "Molina!" No one answered. The cold snuck back and whatever warmth she had given him, vanished. He whimpered and slammed his head back against the beam.

* * *

><p>"They took him!" Valera was simmering with rage. "They barred the way and <em>took<em> him!" She was pacing the room.

They had found Romel at the inn where Lauviah had agreed to meet him. She had gone there to tell him what had happened. The other three had come barging in with weapons drawn. Romel had calmly asked them to sit down and explain what happened.

All of them were very agitated. "Emman asked to speak to Edmund and he went. When we came looking for him we were stopped and saw three guards dragging him away."

"Kicking and screaming." Arthur added.

Romel expression turned dangerous. He focused on a single spot on the table. "Do you know what happened to him?"

All three shook their heads.

Romel nodded and turned to Lauviah. "Go find Dalo. Tell him the plans have changed. The slaves will have to wait. I'll go speak with Emman, try to get some answers."

"And then what?" Archer asked. He was the only one who still hadn't put away his weapon.

"Then I get him to tell me what he did to the kid." Romel rolled out of his seat and started to reattach the weapons he had removed upon entering.

"If there's going to be scrappin' you can count me in." Archer growled.

"No I have'ta do this alone." Romel shrugged into his cape. "Just wait here for the others." he ordered on his way to the door.

The four of them watched him go before they traded worried glances.

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><p>A while after, though Edmund wasn't sure how long, Emman entered the room. His heart rate spiked at the mere sight of him. Though he didn't look angry. Theatrically disappointed or hurt. Not angry. "I hear you have confessed to unimaginable sins. Sins I find too horrible to speak of," He dramatically placed a hand on his chest. "To speak ill against Tash, the inexorable the irresistible, is a crime punishable by death."<p>

Edmund's face fell and he began shivering violently.

"I am afraid I have no choice." He turned and almost left the room. "Tomorrow we must go to Tashbaan where the noble Tisroc, may-he-live-forever, will decide in his wisdom how best to punish you." He glanced back. "I pray he is lenient and spares your life." Turning back to the door, he paused. "But do not hold hope."

Without another word he turned and left the room.

Edmund's face scrunched up in a frown and a tear tricked down his cheek. Why were they doing this to him? What had he done to deserve this? He began crying softly again.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> And there it was. The Edmund-torture will continue into future chapters, but it'll be a different kind. Don't say I didn't warn you. Again, sorry for not uploading sooner, but the site was down.


	17. Chapter 17: Endurance

**Disclaimer:** Read previous.

**AN:** Warning. Mentions of sleep deprevation. A much stealthier form of sadism. Thanks for being :*

Oh and to aces1219 (just saw your review) there's a short film I'd like to recommend. It's called 'Waiting for the Guards' and is part of a campaign against the use of torture. It's partly what inspired the previous chapter. Can find it on youtube.

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><p><strong>Chapter 17: Endurance<strong>

Edmund was covered in worn clothes from head to toe and seated on a donkey. He had recognized it immediately as Star. It seemed Emman had stolen more than just him. In the back of his mind he was beginning to wonder why Romel hadn't shown yet. It had been one night since his disappearance. Mentally wondering how short a time he had spent in that cellar compared to how long it _felt_ like, he convinced himself he really couldn't blame them. It wasn't such a crime that they hadn't come for him yet. It was only one night after all. Surmising the hours he'd spent in torture, it didn't seem so terrible. The worst thing had been the lack of sleep and the beam across his shoulders. The beam had been removed, but there had been no respite. He hoped he could get some sleep on the trip. He felt strangely comfortable with the idea of sleeping on a horse, or donkey as it were.

After Molina left, Edmund had cried himself to sleep. Or rather, to the brink of sleep. He was so exhausted. So worn down. Every time he had been just about to drift off, a guard had entered the room and kicked him awake. And so it went all through the night. Whenever Edmund was just about to slip into unconsciousness a guard would come and kick him to life.

The end result being that he hadn't slept at all. He was exhausted and scared. He was afraid of what would happen to him. How his life would look by the end of tomorrow night. Emman had said it would only take one day's march to Tashbaan. The Tarkaan was carried in a littler at the very front of the small cortege. Edmund was bound to Star somewhere near the back, surrounded by guards. Besides being bound to Star, _she_ was being led by one of the toughest looking soldiers in the group.

They had of course not given him any weapons back, but at least his arms had been lowered. He couldn't feel anything beyond his shoulders and was too tired to try and shake life into them. He allowed them to sag and instead loosened his hips, allowing them to move with Star's movements. The little donkey didn't have anything resembling a smooth walk, but she tried to tread carefully. Edmund recognized the muscles used when she hesitated. He didn't know how he recognized them as such; all he knew was that it brought him comfort. He smiled tiredly and scratched her scruff. She made a tiny whinnying sound and perked her ears.

If he had nothing else in this world, he still had her. It seemed enough to be grateful for.

* * *

><p>Peter and Lucy arrived to a less than cheerful city. It was only Peter's second trip since the first official one to negotiate trade agreements. Edmund and Susan had been with him then. Now neither of them were. He knew Lucy had been here several times, often along with her sister. Sometimes with Edmund. He should have felt safe with her. But what made his skin crawl was the fact that the city seemed to be almost asleep. Not the first time he had visited, nor in any of the later stories his siblings had told him, had the city been described as dull. Never quiet, lazy or dull. None of them were words he had ever heard in context with Tashbaan. Filthy, yes. Noisy, definitely. But silent?<p>

And never the less it was the state of things. "Strange, Sire." Oreius commented quietly from his side. The general and his sovereigns had rejoined with Kanell's troop just outside the city. Near the royal tombs. He had assigned the captain to Lucy and kept Oreius by his side.

"Indeed," he agreed. His eyes were sweeping people on the street. Most of them were sitting or talking quietly. There were no children out. Peter didn't know what to make of this, but apparently his sister did.

A delicate Sparrow chirped and landed on his extended arm. "What news, Madame Mina?"

The Sparrow bowed in the fashion of her kind and hopped onto Peter's shoulder. "The queen says that the silence is the calm before the storm, your majesty."

"In what way?"

"The autumn feast is this week, Sire," she chirped. "The silence is usual, but the mood worries her."

"She and I share that concern. What does she suggest?"

"She says there is a man by the river that she trusts. He will tell us everything."

Peter nodded and sent the bird back to get directions. The Valiant Queen refused to give them, much to her brother's dismay. They didn't go to see Lucy's friend immediately. As royals on official business in Tashbaan it was customary to greet the ruler as the first thing. Not do to so could be considered extremely offensive. At least that was Lucy's adamant excuse. They rode their somewhat enlarged group up to the castle grounds. Peter was surprised, considering the spectacle the first time he had visited. Hardly anyone stopped to stare at the barbarian kings and queens or the strange Creatures they marched through the streets. Peter found it all terribly strange and just a little bit alarming.

After a brief consultation with the Tisroc they were all escorted to their private chambers.

Before their arrival to Tashbaan, Oreius had reminded Peter of their first visit to the great city. He informed the High King that he had never had any desire to travel in Calormen after that visit. Peter couldn't blame him. They both functioned better in the cold. The north was where both of them spent a substantial amount of time each year. Right behind the frontlines, battling giants.

Politics, etiquette and heat were far too delicate matters to be placed in the hands of men, as far as Peter was concerned. That was why he usually let the girls go on these diplomatic missions. When diplomacy failed, which he couldn't honestly say he hoped for, he would step in. Do the best he could to protect what he loved. In that sense, general Oreius was very similar to him.

"Is today a particularly hot day, or is it just me?" Peter was being helped out of his armor by two fauns.

Lucy was sitting on a small chaise with her legs folded under her. Madam Mina was sitting next to her on a little perch, waiting for further instructions. The windows were all wide open and a cool breeze occasionally blew through the room. She smiled at him and rolled out of her seat. "I warned you not to wear your armor. I'm surprised you didn't remember how hot it gets down here."

"I must've blocked it from my mind," Peter mumbled through a smirk.

Lucy giggled and went to fetch them both some wine. Peter bent over to let the fauns pull the mail over his head. As soon as it was off he straightened with a deep groan. Lucy giggled again and handed him the cup. The fauns excused themselves and politely carried Madam Mina out with them.

"Just sit here and relax. I'll take Ricanus, Bal and Kast with me." One was a Tiger of the Palace Guard, the other a Cheetah courier and the last a Panther soldier. They had often traveled with Great Cats, but Lucy couldn't ever recall a time when more than two had accompanied them at once.

Peter sighed again and rolled his eyes for good measure when Lucy pretended to ignore him. "Sure and one lady walking down the streets of Tashbaan with three feline predators won't seem strange at'all."

"Well what do _you_ suggest then?" She was quickly remembering why Peter never went on these southern outings. The heat had a tendency to make him testy. It also seemed to be giving him a headache.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Take Tavian and Pauton. Won't look nearly as conspicuous."

Lucy frowned in thought. She knew both well. Tavian was Celer's cousin who always looked stern, but had the most wonderful laugh. He was also deadly with a sword. Pauton was an archer in the royal guard. Had a short temper and a chronically sour expression. He also told the best jokes and was the only one still willing to battle Lucy or Edmund in drinking contests, besides the Blue River smithy Dwarfs. "Alright. I'll take Tavian and Pauton, but I'm keeping Kast. He's been there before and my friend trusts him."

"Who _is_ this friend anyway?" Peter flopped down on the chaise and began working the stiff muscles along his shoulders and arms.

Lucy grinned and pointedly ignored him as she pretended to watch the decor.

"Fine. Don't tell me." He leaned back and put an arm over his head.

"It's someone I trust, let's keep it at that. Besides I'm not sure you would approve of my keeping friends such as her."

"_Her_- it's a _she_?" He sat back up. "How did I not know this? How can _we_ not know that you've got spies all over Calormen?" He looked aimlessly around the room as if begging the furniture to answer.

Lucy scoffed and picked at a painting of the two-hundredth and fifty-seventh Tisroc. Sheik Amaal, the title read. "Not just in _Calormen_." She turned and ignored the dumfounded expression on his face. "Now let's discuss what we need to know. Only the most important things."

"Right- why exactly?"

"Because. . ." She sighed theatrically. "If she _were_ a spy – as you say – I couldn't very well walk in there and expect her to divulge valuable information without something in return, now _could_ I?"

"No 'course not," Peter mumbled.

"And so it would help if I knew what you wanted me to ask her."

"Has she seen Edmund."

"Well I can't ask her _that_!"

He sighed and flopped back down on the comfortable chaise and replaced the arm over his eyes. "No of course not-" He interrupted himself with another sigh. "So ask if she's heard anything about a supposed black-haired man roaming the streets of Tashbaan."

"And she'll say 'yes' right before she starts laughing me in the face. We're in Calormen, Peter. I doubt there's one man in this place that _doesn't_ have black hair."

He let out a warning growl.

"Maybe I _should_ just ask if she's heard about Ed," she pondered out loud.

Another growl, a little more aggressive.

He didn't remove the arm to see his sister's slightly sadistic smile. Nor how was standing right in front of him. Enjoying her brother's annoyance for a few more seconds, Lucy tore her eyes away and started chewing her bottom lip. It helped her think. "I'll leave after lunch and return around nightfall."

Peter hummed in response.

"Will you stall the Tisroc until then?"

"Sure, Lu. Whatever you want."

Lucy smirked, having heard that sentence far too often from her older siblings when they were tired of her nagging. Well, really only when they found her the most exasperating. "I'll have something warm brought up for you to drink, how about that?"

Peter's breathing had evened out, but he jerked a little at the word 'warm'. "Shouldn't it be cold? Drink anything hot in this heat and I'll only feel hotter."

"Actually tea or coffee is most effective against the heat. Or hot chocolate with chili."

Peter removed the arm a fraction to glare at his overly exuberant, little sister. "How in _Narnia_ can that be healthy?"

"The chili makes you sweat. Sweat cools you down."

He groaned and slipped the arm back over his eyes. "You've been down here too often."

"And you haven't been down here _enough_." she said and bobbed his nose in passing. "I'll ask if they can bring something up." He didn't see her smile fade when her eye caught sight of the city outside. He didn't see the worry-lines around her eyes as she left the room.

He mumbled a reply to which she didn't answer. The door closed and silence ensued. Suddenly Peter felt wide awake. His sister's voice had very simply worn him down. The girls had a natural ability to make him sleepy, not that he would ever tell them. Of course, _he_ didn't know the girls had figured that out years ago and often used it to their advantage. When Susan talked it was like a background humming. Like hypnosis. When Lucy talked you were often pulled into conversation with minimal effort on her part. Her talks and stories often left you feeling tired from being so engrossed.

He, of course, felt the need to point out that he always listened to both his sisters and never took them for granted. He felt this needed to be said, or at least thought, even if he was presently alone. He sat up and looked longingly at the double doors. Oreius was somewhere outside those doors. Kanell as well. The two Centaurs were always handy when he needed a distraction. Right now the lack of sleep was enough to bother him and enough to warrant such a distraction.

So, in an effort to not think about his little brother, he joined them in the adjacent suite.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Hope I'm not minimizing their concern for Ed in this one. Lemme know as you so wonderfully do. :)


	18. Chapter 18: Pain

**Disclaimer:** *slides glasses further up nose* "No. Now, let's take it from the top. Say it with me: Not. Mine."

**AN:** Thank you, boys and girls! This one's even longer! :P

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><p><strong>Chapter 18: Pain<strong>

Edmund was in a world of pain. His body was wrecked after crossing the desert all day. He hadn't been able to sleep. The uneven trails and the guards made sure of that. When they arrived to Tashbaan that night, he was covered up from head to toe and blindfolded. He was pulled off Star, much to her disapproval, and dragged into a manor. Or castle maybe? It was certainly large enough that his feet and the voices of others made echoes. He was led down a stair and brought to a room, not unlike the one he had left that morning.

It was cool and water was dripping somewhere out of sight.

He was placed on the floor and left. It took him a full one-hundred count before he dared remove the blindfold. It was a cell, as he had imagined. No windows, one door and a whole lot of moisture. He sighed and didn't even bother to get up. He just pulled his clothes tighter and tried to stave off the cold. He hoped he could at least get some sleep. The longer he sat the harder it was to keep warm. The clothes they had given him were designed for desert travel. Not to keep away the cold of night. They were made from thin fabrics and only designed to protect from the harsh sun. In the underground darkness he had no defense and was left shivering.

It took him nearly two hours, but he eventually curled up and fell asleep. He dreamt about lions and witches.

* * *

><p>Pain. Romel was going to inflict very serious pain when he found that traitor. He had barged through Emman's front doors without caring who he offended. Two guards tried to stop him, but were beaten down without even slowing his pace. Fury rippled over every inch of him, ending in his black eyes. He searched that damn town-house from top to bottom. There were only a few servants around and even less guards. He figured most had left with Edmund and Emman.<p>

He knew how Emman broke his new acquisitions and hated the thought of it being done to a kid he had grown to like. He felt responsible for him in ways he hadn't felt for anyone several decades.

Walking through the house, his mind wandered back to the last time he had ever allowed himself to care for someone not like him. A woman, three lifetimes ago. She had been beautiful and strong. Not dainty or blemish free, but she had been _real_. And she had been _his_. He had started a life with her. The memories of his previous lives came very late that time around. They didn't surface until his fiftieth year. After almost thirty birthdays with his woman.

He told her, but she couldn't understand. Months passed and they grew estranged. One day a group of people knocked on his door. A tall man named Valois, leading them. Valera as she now called herself. He spoke of things he couldn't know. Of lives past. Of deeds Romel had no real memory of doing, and yet they were there. He begged his wife to come with him. She refused and he left anyway.

After almost six months he returned to a ruin. Raiders or slave traders had ripped through his village and left nothing but ash in their wake. His lovely wife had been reduced to crumbling cinders. Since then he hadn't dared. Hadn't dared fall in love. Hadn't dared make a connection outside their group of deathless wanders. Why love someone when he knew he would lose them to fate? He had stopped caring about death and life. Both were so close and yet unobtainable. He and his men were born apart, reconnected and died. Some lifetimes they died young. In other lives they lived only to waste away into old age.

Romel preferred a quick death. He had tried every kind. He had committed every kind as well. Archer's tattoos were a uniqueness of his current life. He had taken to marking the people he killed. Marked their impressions into his skin as arches, hexagons, circles or squares. Romel chose to forget. Others were the lucky ones. _They_ got to die and stay dead.

And that was exactly what was going to happen to Emman Tarkaan next. Once Romel found him; because find him, he would. He had nine lifetimes worth of experience in finding people. The Tarkaan was marked. Be it in this life or the next, Romel would kill him.

He crossed through an empty kitchen and proceeded straight in the direction of the cellar. These Calormen houses were marvels of construction. Wide windows and up to five floors. Most had cellars and most Tarkaans used them for storage of food and slaves. Emman was no exception. He entered a room that looked like ie had been recently used. A beam was sitting against the wall and a bowl of stale water had been left just outside the door.

He stepped inside and turned the beam over. Brown splotches marred the wood where ropes had burned into wrists. Toenail-scratches on the floor marked where people had been hung and left for hours upon end. He whirled around when a faint sound reached him. He dropped his shoulders and took a deep breath. A faint smell of sweet perfume. Just the barest sound of another human.

He stepped out, into the hallway, and came face to face with a middle aged woman. "I've heard a lot of stories about this house. Most from the man who owns it," he growled.

The woman looked slightly frightened, but also expectant. World weary. "The worst one I ever heard from here was of a woman. She joined the household when she was very young." He stalked closer and gripped the handle of his sheathed sword.

The woman drew a deep breath, but stayed in place.

"She's the nightmare of this place." He glanced around for emphasis before he looked back at her. "When she first arrived she had no name so Emman gave her one. He called her _Molina_." He stopped inches from her face and looked deep into her eyes.

She stared up at him. He couldn't tell if it was boredom or fear he saw in her honey-brown eyes. "That story is a sad one." she said. Her voice was rough, yet smooth.

"Where did he take him?" he growled. His shoulders were vibrating. He gripped the sword harder and harder.

"To face Tash," she said. "He'll be accused of treason and executed without chance for pardon." She sounded like she didn't even care. "First he'll be tortured into confessing to the Grand Vizier. The Tisroc will never see his head roll and fake ignorance about his death."

Romel's jawmuscles jumped. He eventually nodded. "How old are you?"

She smirked. "Far too old,"

He nodded again and sidestepped her. In a smooth movement he freed sword from scabbard and swung it with deadly precision – severing head from body. Even as she heard the weapon sing, she didn't move. Though Romel would never know, the second she felt air give way for steel, she closed her eyes and smiled. He didn't stop to look at the head as it rolled to the floor. The stench of blood immediately filled the room and a body hit unyielding ground with a smack.

He started running the second he left the cellar. There she would remain, closed off from his mind and his future memories. She would stay in a cellar that could never again be tainted by the sound of aching screams.

He froze when he saw the servant Khazim at the end of a random hall. The slave had enough sense to recover from shock and run within seconds. Romel took off after him for no other reason than to kill him. Khazim nearly made it to the front parlor before a flash of silver split the air. Romel swung out wildly and severed his spine. Khazim stumbled and fell. Blood flooded the thick carpet and added to the carnage of the day. Romel walked easily around and severed the head from the spine as he had with Molina.

Khazim, the man, stilled. His _body_ kept moving in rivers and fluids. Twitching body parts like a headless chicken unable to get up. Romel barely spared him a glance before he continued out the door. The few servants that were left didn't discover the slaughter for almost two hours. Not until a young girl went to the parlor on her way to the square. She flinched in shock. Her eyes widened as the garish imaged burned itself into her brain. And with a great inhale of air, she screamed.

By then Romel had rejoined Valera, Archer, Arthur and Lauviah at the inn. Stell, Hale, Hamied and Elijah had all arrived as well. Unaware of his own gory appearance, Romel entered the establishment and went straight to their table. Everyone straightened in surprise and more than a few jaws dropped.

"They took him to Tashbaan where he's being tortured until he confesses to treason. I intend to go there and get him out." He took a seat and was offered a cup of weak wine.

"Tashbaan is a good place to hide someone." Valera pointed out.

"He's being held at the royal palace."

"How do you know that?" Archer asked.

"Because it's the Tisroc who ordered it, though the consequences of it will never touch him." He looked at the men and women around the table. Most he knew better than himself. Some were still a mystery to him and probably always would be. When he looked around at them, he didn't see men and women. He didn't see blue eyes or brown hair.

They had all been both men and women in past lives; fair and dark. Their genders or races were no longer an issue. Nor sexuality. They were connected through loyalty. Brotherhood. It extended to a degree that often made Romel wonder if they were all psychic. Arthur called it empathy. A profound love of all living things. Archer would disagree, as was his nature. Valera would smile and give a quick nod. Romel wasn't sure _what_ he believed. All he had left was a slightly twisted sense of right and wrong.

He didn't know who Edmund was. Why he was wanted by the Tisroc. He knew the boy was kind and strong. Brave in the face of fear and loyal. Qualities he saw in all his soldiers. Qualities he hoped to exude. "I won't ask you to come. He's not one of us. You're not bound."

"Are you going?" Hale asked. Such a quiet man. He was one of the few Romel would never fully understand and loved more for it.

He nodded.

Archer sighed and looked heavenward. "Should I state the obvious?" A few of the others looked at him curiously. Valera glared molten rock as if she knew exactly what he would say. "This means swearing loyalty to someone outside the group." He looked at the faces before him.

"Something we swore never to do again." Arthur finished for him. He was sitting with his feet on the table and generally looking very relaxed and pensive. Until suddenly he shrugged and pulled his feet down. "It would be something new to do," He smirked at Romel and almost made the commander smirk in return. "Might even be fun."

Romel allowed some of his tension to evaporate. As he looked around he saw looks of consent. He wasn't sure if they were following him, or following themselves. He suspected both were true. Lauviah liked Edmund. She would have gone after him with or without her brothers. Valera, he suspected, was following _his-_, more than her _own_ sense of loyalty. Those hazel eyes gazed calmly into his until a smirk softened her face. A fire lit up in her eyes and she transformed into a being out of this world.

Archer was oddly the only one Romel had trouble figuring. He had already fought for the kid. He had fought _with_ the kid as well. Helped him. Threatened him. Despite his general dislike for outsiders he had taken to the youth. With a smile Romel decided to place his faith in the burly man. He would always do the right thing. Regardless of what others thought.

"Very well," He finished the wine in one gulp. "We'll need horses."

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><p>Three hooded figures made their way through narrow streets. The sun was baking and slowly burning away every spec of moisture in the air. Flickering vapor made the air simmer. Behind the three hooded individuals, a Panther slunk quietly along. It stuck to the shadows and needed no disguise to remain unnoticed. It was in its nature.<p>

The three, sneaky characters wore floor-length robes that cleverly concealed their features. Be they Faun-, Dwarf- or Man-like. Only ever so rarely would silver strands in their robes catch a ray of sunlight and flicker in the heat. Black cloaks with intricate silver designs along the rims. Lions made by needlepoint by nimble fingers, to look as though they moved when the light changed. So delicate that one had to be staring straight at them in order to notice. The tallest of the three waved the others in the right direction.

They stepped into a livelier neighborhood. More people were laughing, which was probably connected to their drinking. The infamous pleasure houses by the Tashbaan River. The houses lined both sides of the river, both south and north of the city. It was rumored that two parties owned the majority of the houses and profited wildly from it. The North Bank houses were owned by the Agrippa brothers. Idris and Tano Agrippa. Tano was the older brother who had inherited one house from his late father and turned one into two, two into four and so on. Idris, the younger and enthusiastic brother, had a whore in every pleasure house. Now there were over fifty houses along the northern bank and most of them belonged to these two. Out of the two banks, the northern one had by far the best reputation. _Women_, as opposed to children. _Willing_, as opposed to enslaved. Or so the talk went.

Lucy had been introduced to them once, under disguise. Both brothers had been extremely charming and no more a threat than a pretentious housecat. She had approached Tano and tried to get a feel for his loyalties. She had yet to reveal her true identity, but was beginning to think it might be possible to do so without repercussions. Idris greeted her with a perpetually charming smile and tried to hire her each time she visited her friend.

Her friend, Zaira, worked in one of the largest houses. The two women were closer than she had led her brother to believe, though neither knew the other's real name. Lucy had presented herself as Lara, an Archenlandish duchess. Zaira had told "Lara" upfront that no one outside her family knew _her_ real name.

It had become somewhat of an internal joke, since both women were aware of being lied to and didn't mind. Lucy had taken to calling Zaira, Lark, because of the little melodies she would whistle. Zaira had in return renamed Lucy, Azrak, after her blue eyes.

The tallest of the three hooded figures reached the shade in front of one of the houses. The tallest one lowered her hood and smiled at the large, blue door. The Valiant Queen gestured for Tavian and Pauton to wait outside and called Kast to follow her inside. The Panther slid soundlessly from the shadows and accompanied his queen into the house of ill repute. Once there, Lucy climbed familiar steps to a room on the top floor. The door was open which meant Zaira was inside, waiting for someone to enter.

Lucy smirked and pushed the door open with a quick tap. A loud squeal of delight greeted her when Zaira recognized the knock. The two women lunged into each others' arms with wide smiles. "Tash be blessed, I've missed you!" She put her slender hands on either side of Lucy's face. "How fares the north?"

"It's getting colder," Lucy giggled.

"It is truly good to see you, my friend."

"Likewise, Lark."

Zaira giggled and went to close the door. She recognized Kast and gestured for him to enter, but he politely refused. Lucy had never presented him as a Talking Narnian, nor had he ever spoken in front of Zaira, but she figured her friend knew more than she let on. Kast turned his back as the door closed and took a sentry post outside the room. Lucy took a seat in Zaira's windowsill and admired the view. It overlooked the river.

"What brings you to me?"

Lucy smiled. "Maybe I just missed you,"

Zaira smiled and took a seat next to the younger woman. They were nearly ten years apart in age, but Zaira knew that one could be old in more ways than one. Her Azrak was older than she appeared. _More_ than she appeared. "As true as that is, one does not make this trip lightly. It only takes a quarter of an hour to find this house, but it takes a lifetime to escape it." She tilted her head curiously when Lucy's expression fell. Her brows knitted together. "What troubles you, my dear?"

Lucy tried to cover it with a smile, but failed. Zaira ran a hand down her cheek. "One of my brothers is missing."

Zaira instantly sobered. "Tash be merciful. . ."

"I need to find him. It's of great importance."

"Why of course!" she agreed.

"Not just for my sake," Lucy finished seriously. Her shoulders straightened under the tension.

Zaira searched her eyes. "What can I do to help?"

Lucy turned to her fully. Zaira's eyes were wild and full of curiosity. Dark brown, almost black. "Have you heard any news at all about. . ." She hesitated, unsure of what to say. "About-"

They joined hands. "Every day men, women and children are kidnapped here." Zaira sadly explained. "I have not heard anything, dear. Forgive me."

Lucy nodded jerkily and looked down at the hands in her lap. "We don't believe he was taken. He went willingly with a group of people."

"What kind of people?"

Lucy shrugged. "We don't know. All we know is that they travel in a group of ten, my brother included."

Zaira glanced down in thought.

Lucy took it as a positive sign that she had news and leaned closer. "Have you heard anything of that nature?"

Zaira glanced up and shook her head. "I am sorry, dear. I see many powerful men, but none like the ones you say. I have heard no mention of any group, but-" She hesitated with a careful look at Lucy.

"But what?"

She sighed. "I know you are more than you've told me." Lucy looked about to argue, but Zaira stopped her with a smile. "How could one such as you be anything but a queen?" She reached up and stroked a lock of hair behind Lucy's ear.

"What?" The young queen was staring wide eyed at the woman she had known for little under a year.

Zaira smiled. "My real name is Eraniz, your Majesty." She smiled tenderly.

Lucy exhaled and waited for the gavel to fall, but nothing came. "Lovely to meet you, Eraniz," she said breathlessly.

Eraniz smiled again and tilted her head patiently.

Lucy's wide eyes were searching every inch of her face. Slowly she realized that Eraniz was still looking at her the same way she always had. Had she always known Lucy was more than she pretended to be?

"A woman in my position is very rarely who she seems. I have two faces. The one I use here and the one I use with family. With _you_," Her smile undid every promise Lucy had ever made to herself about their friendship.

"I'm Queen Lucy the Valiant." she blurted out.

Eraniz's face fell. "So it is true?"

Lucy nodded and attempted to smile. She needn't have bothered. As her friend looked into her eyes they slowly lit up. Lucy watched in awe as Eraniz took in every crook and curve of her face. "Eraniz," Lucy shocked her out her riveted observation and caused both women to giggle. "Have you heard anything about my brother?"

"King Edmund?" Her eyes widened in a sense that almost answered Lucy's question for her.

"You know something, don't you?" Lucy leaned and tried, as Eraniz had before, to catalogue every inch of her friend's face.

"A guard of the palace came to a bed in our house last night. He claims that a barbarian king of the north has been arrested by the Tisroc."

Lucy paled. Her eyes stilled and filled with tears. "We've heard nothing of this. . ."

"I suspect the guard was not supposed to tell me."

A tear made its way down the young queen's face.

"He said they had him tortured to get a confession to treason."

She swallowed when more tears threatened to fall. They had cried together before. It was strange how Lucy suddenly began erecting walls in front of a woman she had been brutally honest with for the past year. A stranger whom she had trusted and who had trusted her back. "Wh-What. . ." She swallowed again. Now she was no longer staring at a woman or a friend, but a "lesser". Not noble; not to be trusted. So said every bell and alarm in her mind. She hated that she had developed such an effective form of protection against strangers. She glanced away from Eraniz's face and looked down at the river.

"The guard said the king was still alive. That they could not execute him until he confessed to his crimes."

"What crimes!" she cried without concern for who might hear.

Eraniz flinched, but didn't move away. "Treason against Tash and thereby against the Tisroc, forever-he-endure."

Such a look of astonishment filled the youngest queen's eyes that Eraniz almost wept. Such sorrow and indignation. "Tell me he's not being held in the palace," Lucy couldn't think about her brother, captive in the same building as she, being tortured. With her and Peter sipping wine in cool chambers. It almost made her sick.

"I do not know."

Without another word, Lucy whirled out of her seat and stormed past Kast. The Panther nearly leapt out of his skin when she ran past him, but quickly followed. Lucy heard Eraniz calling for her, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. She sped out the door, uncaring who heard. Pauton and Tavian both jumped at her sudden appearance.

"Your majesty?" the faun blurted out.

"Back to the castle! Keep up!" She ran up the narrow streets she had taken not even an hour earlier. Her heart was hammering and sweat was pouring down her back within seconds. Hair stuck to her face and neck. The heat was like a tangible weight that insisted on making each step heavier than the previous. When she reached the castle her eyes were swimming and her breath was coming in long, rasping gasps. She ran through the closest entrance to her and Peter's private quarters. The tall stairway had deceptively low steps and on every other one she would bang her toe against the top and trip. Kast was behind her in case she should fall, but still couldn't get a word out of her.

Tavian had just reached the stairs as Lucy stepped into the entrance hall. Pauton had given up a mile back due to his unfair disadvantage - short legs. The hall was unbearably hot. She was breathing wrong. It sounded _wrong_. Too heavy. Her head was swimming and her fingers were tingling. She suddenly noticed the Kast was speaking to her. Asking her questions, trying to get a response. She couldn't quite make out the words and so ignored him. She pushed open the doors to the suite. Her brother, Kanell, Oreius and several other members of the guard stopped what they were doing when she entered.

For a few seconds everyone just stared at her. "Lucy. . ?" Her brother glanced from Kast back to Lucy.

_His voice sounds so odd_, she thought. A wheeze. _Like he's speaking from the bottom of a well_. A forced exhale. The last thing the officers of the Narnian Royal Guard saw before her legs gave out, was a confounded frown. She was unconscious before she hit the floor.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Couldn't help myself. I'll give you a sec to let this one sink in. TBC.


	19. Chapter 19: Epiphany

**Disclaimer:** "-. .-.-.-... .-..-...-.. -...-.-.-.-.-.-...-.-.-.- -..-.-.-.-.-..-" *Morse code*

**AN:** Authors like cliffhangers like reviewers like exclamation points! Ya'll know what I mean ) Heheeee... Oh and I should mention that I have nothing what-so-ever do to with posting the video called 'Waiting for the Guards', but thanks for the props. It was created by Marc Hawker and Ishbel Whitaker for Amnesty International's UNSUBSCRIBE campaign. Probably should'a put that one in the disclaimer, huh?

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><p><strong>Chapter 19: Epiphany<strong>

A whiplash.

A cry.

Two men. One dancing around the other with a thick horsewhip. The other hanging by his wrists; his feet, hovering one inch above the floor. Edmund had stopped crying. Once he moved past the fear he realized there was nothing left but pain. Pain could in most instances be ignored. Turned to anger. He was bleeding from shallow wounds, mostly to his stomach. Welts that seeped blood ever so slowly. It seemed his back had hardened after the whiplashes almost a month earlier. That and the powder they had used to sear the wounds with.

He felt the blood as it dripped down his stomach in warm currents. On his back he didn't feel any. Just the sharp bite of the whip. And even then it would disappear rather quickly. No, Edmund decided with himself, the worst was his shoulders. The muscles in them were sore beyond belief. They felt dislocated though he knew they weren't. It wasn't that he recognized the pain from dislocation as much as how he _didn't_.

A dull agony that pained all muscle groups, from his wrists and down to his lower back. The hours crawled away from him, ever so slowly. Eventually the guard became tired of whipping someone who didn't scream. Edmund was clinging to consciousness and barely had energy left to wriggle his toe.

The guard began boxing. The first punch fell to his diaphragm. His body subconsciously curled in on itself, but with nowhere to go Edmund just wound up looking at little humpbacked. The second punch was to his lower back. That time he cried out when the hit a kidney and cracked one of his ribs in the process. Pins and needles in his side. It sent waves of intense pain up his back and pushed the wind out of him. It took a moment to reclaim his even breathing.

The third punch was to his groin and was rather successful in producing a reaction. Ed cried out a promptly proceeded to vomit all over the floor. He was breathing in short, panicked gasps. The guard smiled, finally having gotten a satisfactory reaction out of his prisoner. Edmund knew it would only get worse from there.

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><p>Emman Tarkaan was sitting in a delicious parlor. He had always admired the Tisroc's impeccable taste. Velvet curtains in multiple colors. Gold on every surface of the room. Glancing at Al-Jazir, the Kahen, he doubted the man shared his sentiments. Al-Jazir was a man of faith. He was not one to wear flashy clothes as other Calormenes. He preferred the regal, black robe. He was a confessor to the king himself and a trusted advisor in all religious matters. Emman cleared his throat uncomfortably and glanced at the Tisroc without appearing too conspicuous. The servant serving wine was batted away.<p>

Pudgy hands stuffed full of rings. Flabby wrists with golden bangles and bracelets. Golden chains around his neck. A long, gold-embroidered robe. A feathered turban with a huge ruby, wrapped around his head. The Tisroc almost blended perfectly with the rest of the room.

In comparison Al-Jazir only had one piece of jewelry on his person. An amulet in a chain around his neck. One of the oldest of fifty-seven symbols of Tash. The jar with flames, shooting out at the top. And one of three keys to the royal temple in Tashbaan and the Holy Citadel in Aswaan. The most entrusted servant of Tash held the second key and the Tisroc the third.

"What is this, my Lord?" The Kahen looked utterly unimpressed by being in the same room as a direct descendant of Tash. Of course, the Kahen believed that no such descendants were ever sired and that to claim so was, not only foolish, but a crime against the Great God himself. Emman had little patience for such grand questions. _His_ mind focused solely on money. He wasn't sure if he agreed with the Kahen, watching the Tisroc now. Never had he been so simultaneously terrified and awestruck.

Two soldiers loomed in the back of the room with scimitars drawn. "You are here, slave of Tash, to do my bidding." the Tisroc said in a rasping voice.

_He smokes too much hookah_, a voice in Emman's head mocked. It sounded frighteningly similar to his mother's. Emman stared at the Tisroc first, then Al-Jazir.

"Noble uncle. Your time has long been running out." He fingered an hourglass, strategically placed right next to him. "Now I fear times have changed and left you behind."

Al-Jazir darted his hawk eyes from the Tisroc to Emman. His face contorted in a sneer. "You would replace me with. . ." He gestured loosely to Emman. "With _this_!"

The Tisroc was an image of calm. "I have made my choice. My word is law."

"And what of my followers?" Al-Jazir cried in outrage.

"You will be allowed to worship," the Tisroc said. "-in Aswaan." He and Emman shared a look. "I furhtermore decree that the holy Rite shall be moved from its resting place in the Holy Citadel to the Tempel of Tash. Here in Tashbaan it will rest. The place where the Rite was first written. Where Our glorious bloodline had its origin."

Al-Jazir was momentarily stunned. His eyes, that had moments ago looked hawkish, were now perfectly round. "This is sacrilege. This will mean the end of my holy order."

"Yes," the Tisroc agreed dully. "And the beginning of the New Order."

"And who shall govern such an order?" Al-Jazir barked. His eyes had once again lost the youthful roundness and resumed a predatory shape.

The Tisroc looked disinterested at Jazir's outburst. At him, generally. He turned and looked directly at Emman.

"This!" Al-Jazir gestured wildly. "This- This. . . _buffoon_!"

Emman placed a hand on his chest. The Tisroc leaned over slightly to offer a brief show of support to Emman. "Many horrible things have been done to my house while you have held power, Al-Jazir. My son has been betrayed by a barbarian queen, seen his men slaughtered and lastly. . .Turned into an _atrocity_." His voice never rose above a hoarse rasp, but the temperature in the room dramatically dropped. "Where were you when these demons roamed freely in my kingdom?" He sat back, seemingly pleased with his argument.

Al-Jazir was livid. "Tash, blessed be He, cannot be held responsible for the actions of _beasts_!" He was one step shy of threatening the Tisroc. Thus also one step shy of becoming one head shorter. "I have served you faithfully! Loyally! Followed you blindly!"

"And yet it was your financial advisor who brought me the usurper you so desperately hate."

Emman fought off a blush when Al-Jazir stared at him again.

"The demonic barbarian, King Edmund, has been arrested for defiance and treason." The Tisroc leaned a little forward, which Emman imagined cost him a lot of energy considering his girth. "A feat he managed in only a day."

The Tisroc sat back and silently allowed for Emman to enter the conversation. "Yes. What miracles have _you_ performed, Jazir?"

The former Kahen glared lightning at Emman and was about to strike him when the Tisroc intervened. "He has the right to address you in such a manner. You are no longer AL-Jazir, Kahen of the Mighty Tash. You are again as you once were: Jazir Tarkaan. My uncle." The Tisroc nodded, indicating to his guards that Jazir was to be escorted out.

With the last, hissing splinters of his soul, Jazir glared at the man he had once sworn an oath to. "You will live to see your city burn, O Great King and _nephew_." His eyes shifted to Emman – or Al-Emman, Admired Kahen of Tash the inexorable, custodian of the New Order – as he would be known from now on for the rest of his life. "And _you_! You will climb very high only to fall."

"When it is my time, I pray Tash, the benevolent, will be there to catch me." Emman demurely folded his hands and nodded to the late Kahen.

Afore mentioned huffed and stormed out of the room. Emman was surprised he went willingly.

The Tisroc leaned over and looked at Emman. "For reasons you surely understand I cannot see the boy. I trust you to get the words I need to hear, out of him."

Al-Emman nodded and rose from the low couch. He kneeled before his master. "Your word will be law." He kissed the Tisroc's extended hand and rose when he was waved away. He glanced back before he left and noticed the pleased expression on his lord's face. For a man who had only ever cared about money this would prove most beneficial to him.

If only he had seen the tragic destiny he approaching, he would not so easily have accepted.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>If anyone has seen the TV-series called 'Pillars of the Earth' - inspired by the book of the same name - you'll probably recognize Jazir's last oath. Just wanted to mention that it wasn't my brilliant line, but one from the show that fit so perfectly I had to borrow it. So now we have torture, heat strokes and political schemes mixed together in a great big pile of gew. The political changes may - or they may not - effect the sequel (possibly even a third story). Let me know what you think of it.


	20. Chapter 20: Dissociation

**Disclaimer:** Decode previous.

**AN:** Hi, guys. Thanks for sticking with the story. I'm coming down with something that's demanding I drink a lot of cold medicine. The cold medicine makes my brain...how-shall-we-say...slow. Thus writing is coming a little slower. Even though it's only the last few lines of the story, I want them to be good ones. Up to 25 chapters and not looking to expand unless I plot in an epilogue. I'll still update approx once a day till the last one. Oooohhh so close!

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><p><strong>Chapter 20: <strong>**Dissociation**

If only Edmund had seen this trouble before it hit.

"Who are you?" a guard was asking him.

They seemed to care very little about the answers he gave, as long as he gave the right ones. "Edmund." he sighed.

"What are you?"

This was the fifth round of interrogation.

"A slave." His voice was a whisper. He was still hanging from the ceiling by his wrists. He was so tired. So worn. All he wanted was a little sleep. Warmth.

"What is your crime?"

This was where he had trouble. It had taken him two failed answers and two corporeal punishments to realize that 'I don't know' wasn't good enough. "Getting out of bed yesterday." So he had regressed to sarcasm. It felt comfortable. Safe. He wasn't supposed to say anything, he knew. In case of kidnapping, _Do. Not. Speak_. It was apparently advice that had been so thoroughly drilled into him that he could remember it despite having memory loss.

A punch. A cry. He swayed in his chains by the momentum caused. They had very quickly discovered he had sore shoulders. Not long after, they had begun systematically punching him there. "What is your crime?"

He groaned. "Not killing you when I had the chance." Though he could only mumble, his voice still carried in it anger. Hate, even.

Another punch, this time to the front of his chest. He was black and blue from his shoulders down. And what he had feared; what they had discovered, was that punches were in fact much more productive in his interrogation. Whiplashes stung and hurt, but only on the surface. The force behind the punches; both the ones he _had_ received and the ones he _would_ receive, were causing minor internal bleeding, if not major. He coughed breathlessly and spat out a little dribble of blood.

Something was definitely breaking.

"What is your crime?"

He ignored the question out of sheer pigheadedness. It seemed even in death, he was stubborn. He had shed the idea of rescue. It was a fool's hope. He was an idiot to think they would have come for him. He wasn't even sure they _liked_ him. At first he had cried out for help. Begged for mercy, but none had been forthcoming. Now he had reached a new depth of indifference. There was only life or death, neither of which seemed appealing, but not terrifying either. He wasn't afraid to die, really. It would have been a blessing for him at this point.

A sharp tug in his hair stopped the train of thought. "Hhno!" His head was jerked back so far it hurt. He flinched, but couldn't detach the grip. A sharp edge was placed behind his left ear. He didn't even have a chance to curse when the knife was pulled down roughly. A horrible jerk and the dull blade sliced severed the top half of the ear. He screamed and buckled. Every muscle in him contracted and released. His breathing was rough and irregular. He kept screaming.

A shiver ran through him when warm blood rushed down his neck. He bellowed again. In rage as much as pain. "You bloody bastard!" Rage like a beast, spitting and hissing at the bottom of his stomach.

The guard chuckled.

Edmund jerked his chains and tried to summon enough energy to kick him. He could barely raise his foot to the knee. "I'm going to KILL you!"

He was punched again and to his surprise felt indignant anger swell inside him. "You didn't even ask a question!"

The guard looked momentarily stunned. It was a strange reprimand, Edmund admitted, for someone to give their tormentor. The guard stared at his prisoner a moment, with unconcealed surprise. Ed allowed his head to fall as far back as it could. He was still panting, but suddenly realized the hilarity of his comment. He let out a breathless chuckle.

The guard looked even more confused so Ed let out a great laugh. Maniacal and uncaring.

In the midst of his nervous breakdown he suddenly heard a voice. A pathetic excuse for a man's voice. "Leave us,"

Edmund knew that pathetic excuse for a man's voice. He tilted his head up and swallowed when a wave of dizziness overtook him. When the world stopped spinning he offered, what he hoped, was his most threatening glare. "_You_,"

"Yes, Edmund, it is I." Emman stepped a little further into the room. "How are the interrogations going?" He seemed immensely pleased with himself.

Ed sneered, rage boiling in every fiber of his being. "I'm going to kill you," he growled. It didn't matter how or when – in the life after this one for all he cared – but that _man_ was going to die by his hand.

"I am afraid you're mistaken," Emman looked sad. Not genuinely so in any way. Like a jester with a painted face. "It is not I, who will die." He began walking around Edmund.

It was unnerving not knowing where he was. Not having him in his sights all the time. "You will _someday_," Ed felt obliged to point out. His anger was easily hidden, he discovered, by yet more sarcasm. It was funny as hell how his emotions kept fluctuating like this. He blamed it on dehydration and sleep deprivation. Oh yes, and the fact that _half his ear was bloody missing!_ The beast in the pit of his stomach hissed again.

Emman had stopped somewhere behind his back. "Do you know of a punishment called 'slow slicing'?"

Edmund smirked and coughed again. He could taste copper. The left side of his head was throbbing. The half with only _half an ear!_

When he didn't answer, Emman continued. "It serves as punishment for only the most horrible crimes." He reentered his prisoner's field of sight. "They start by removing your toes. Then administer a little pain relief. Opium most often," He continued walking. "Then you will be hung in a public place and, over a period of weeks, cut into." He ran a hand down his back.

Edmund shivered and closed his eyes when a wave of fear rushed through him.

"They will take your feet, then little pieces of your legs. Working their way all the way to your groin and stomach. Pain relief will be given as they progress, to ensure your survival for as long as possible. Most die before they reach the intestines though." Emman ran a stumpy finger over Edmund's belly.

A second shiver raced through him. He curled as much in on himself as his suspended position allowed. He swallowed down the fear the mere feel of his hands brought. "Where did you read that?" He ground out. "A fairytale?"

"The reason I tell you this Sire, is to save you!" Emman spat.

Edmund flinched at the use of 'Sire'. It was as if a block fell into place inside him. A rush of memories all pushed back. He was young, maybe three or four. He was sitting on a lawn with Lucy and Peter. His mother picked him up. His father's smile, as she did. Another flash. He was older. He was fighting with Peter. Just for fun. Another flash. Older still. Arguing with his brother. This time for real. The hurt expression in Peter's eyes brought a wave of guilt.

A burst of light and a walk through an apple tree wardrobe. Coarse wood under his hands. Years spent feeling like traitor, spent redeeming himself by becoming the best swordsman he possibly could. Sacrificing everything he had for his family. Years upon years of memories. Almost all of them.

The last one of him, standing victoriously on a battlefield with his soldiers around him. He was a _king_.

He was panting, he realized.

"Edmund?" Emman stepped back into his field of sight. "You _will_ confess."

Edmund ground his jaw, now more than ever determined to not break. He was too strong to break. Not that he felt it at the moment, but having been told – and _remembering_ he had been told – time and time again by his big brother. It helped to know that someone could say, with such sincerity, that you were the strongest person they knew. It brought him a sense of joy he never thought he could feel.

"You _will_ break and when you do. . ." Emman smiled. "You will pay the price for your sins."

"You'll pay for yours too," he breathed as his tormentor was leaving. Emman froze in the door and turned back with an odd expression. He opened his mouth, but said nothing further before he left.

Once more alone, Edmund let go his precarious emotional control. The sarcasm only worked when there was someone to see it. He was all alone. Again. He knew it wouldn't last long, but still felt it very sharply. He sighed and allowed a tear to drip from his eye. Memories of all the times he had been rescued seconds before the end. It was all real. All his flashes; all his memories of power.

The memory of feeling strong after waking up in the forest. That fear of losing control. He could have left _so_ many weeks ago. He could have gone to find his family. The guilt nearly crushed him. Who was he to pretend he was strong? The boy who was scared of his own memories. Hardly worthy of being king, but king nevertheless.

_That_ was real. The gilded halls and smiling subjects. Loyal friends. A loving family. _That_ was the truth.

The past month felt like the dream. Another tear fell and another after that. He sighed deeply and sagged in his restraints. His ear was burning. His body was sore. The only strength he could find anywhere inside himself was warmth in the middle of his chest. Right in the centre.

A voice, he hadn't even thought to miss, suddenly returned. _All is as it should be, Edmund_. His eyes snapped open and his mouth dropped. A voice of someone who loved him. His breathing suddenly deepened. His eyes widened.

And he breathed out a single word. "Aslan. . ."

* * *

><p>The nine Irins arrived late in the evening to Tashbaan. The city was resting in anticipation for the big autumn feast, only a few days away. "Where do you think they're keeping him?" Archer asked.<p>

"There's something very wrong with him being taken like this. Why should they have bothered?" Valera countered.

Romel looked at the grand palace in front of them. They were in one of the side streets, hiding in the shadows. "Because he's not who he seems." Romel was almost sure there was something much more special about Ed that either of them had yet to consider. "I'll bet you he's in the palace somewhere."

They all looked up at the sparkling towers. Gold plated spires caught the setting sun. White walls stood in sharp contrast to the shadowy city below. "Great. So how do we get in?" Arthur asked. He was staring calmly at Romel. For once he looked serious, but only for an instant before hie expression softened.

Romel looked up at the spires. For the first time in weeks he felt a little more whole. He wasn't right when his friends didn't trust in him. He smiled and looked back at Arthur. "We go in through the backdoor." He set off in a direction and the others followed.

Only two stayed with the horses_. _Stell and Hamied.

_So. . . This is all really happening_. Hamied watched his friends' departure. They were expanding their group to include someone who wouldn't be there next time around. It wasn't the first time, but it was definitely the strangest. None of the Irins had ever gone to such extremes to rescue an outsider. To basically declare war against a king by freeing him. That hadn't happened since the first time.

Something important suddenly clicked into place. Something very important, but obscure.

His expression sobered more and more as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. They had just sworn an oath to protect the boy. They had accepted someone into the group who wasn't cursed. Would he _stay_ dead once Death came for him? Hamied swallowed nervously. Or would he be reborn to another life just as they? Hamied wasn't sure what was worse. Knowing that the boy might actually get to die, or that the boy might have to spend eternity in a pointless cycle of repetition. Sweat broke out all over his body just as a cool breeze calmed him.

A sweet smell and a sigh loosened every knot in his back. His shoulders dropped and his eyes closed halfway. He thought he heard a sound and turned. Stell glanced at him and turned in the same direction. Neither of them saw anyone except an empty street. Hamied frowned and turned. He shook his head at Stell's inquisitive brow.

He didn't dare look back and check again. He could have sworn he heard voice on the wind. Saying only one word.

_Home._

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><p>Seven people broke into the Tisroc's palace that night. They slaughtered two guards, stationed outside the south-east access. The smallest of the baileys held forty eight sleeping guards and two stationed guards. The courtyards only grew in size beyond that. Seven assassins snuck into two, large dorms. They found twenty four men in each. Walking past one bed at the time, they slit throats in the darkness. Stabbed sleeping soldiers through ribcages and into hearts. Only one awoke as a dagger was piercing his heart. Valera squelched his scream with a hand over his mouth.<p>

They all died quickly. They were all murdered brutally. The Irins had never claimed to possess virtue or compassion. They had never lied about who they were; it was just that no one had ever asked. The doors were left open for an easy escape.

And as seven murderers left the dormitories, not a sound was heard.

Only a few obstacles were encountered on route to the place one was sure to always find a dungeon; Cellars. Each obstacle was removed with the greatest ease. Each one only spurred the Irins to go deeper. Like water, they flowed soundlessly through vacant hallways. They broke through doors without disturbing the air. As one they descended the long, winding stair.

It wasn't until the light of the rising moon was overpowered by flickering torches, that they hesitated. Seven guards were speaking quietly with each other. Sitting around a table, drinking. A couple were standing. The conversation hit a natural pause and it was then that a hair raising sound split the air.

A scream ripped through the silence.

The guards glanced at each other. All returned to normal and one guard told a joke. Just like that the desperate plea for help had been dismissed and replaced by chuckles.

The seven looked at each other and knew _exactly_ how much more blood they were going to spill that night.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>I know, I know - You're thinking: How does one go about finding opium in make-believe countries. Well, my little kittens, opium is made from poppyseeds. I figure there must be a couple of poppy-fields around _somewhere_ *Hears que through head-set* Oh, that's NOT what you were thinking?...Oh.


	21. Chapter 21: Escapism

**Disclaimer:** I live in an appartment I don't own, I'm currently sitting in my mother's summerhouse, I'm using a computer that's falling apart and wiping my nose in paper that's made in Germany. I think it's safe to say I'm a "borrower"...'cept I'm real-size...*Looks around* No one saw that movie... with the...y'know...the little people? No?...Shucks!

**AN:** Thanks for the good vibrations, guys. I'm getting the feeling that a lot of you want the Irins to meet Lucy and Peter? I'm not gonna say that's what happens...but... well...I'm just not gonna say. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 21: Escapism<strong>

Lucy woke up with a quick intake of air. Peter flinched next to her and put his hand on her forehead. "Titus, would you come in here please?"

A faun's hoofs clacked against the floor as Titus entered. He was a field medic that Lucy knew well. "What happened?" she asked them both.

Peter moved aside so Titus could see his sister. "You stormed in this afternoon and fainted." He looked at her through worried eyes. "What was so important that you ran all the way from the north bank?"

Titus' hand was resting on her neck, checking her pulse, when she suddenly remembered. She paled and her body began shaking. "Edmund." she said breathlessly. "Edmund's in the castle."

Peter paled then too. Titus stopped his administrations to stare at both. "What?" Peter felt numb.

Lucy as well, though she looked more and more frantic with every passing second. "He's here. In the dungeons!" She leapt out of bed and stormed to the door.

Peter was blindly following her. She slammed open the doors to the common suite where Oreius, Kast and Kanell, among others, were waiting for them. The general and his men stopped in mid-conversation at the sight of their flustered queen. "To arms!" she called.

Everyone obeyed with a weary glance at Peter. Lucy turned on him and grabbed his shoulders. "Peter, the Tisroc has been keeping Edmund here since last night. He's been _torturing_ him!" She could see it all sinking in.

Peter went from pale to blushing. "Are you sure?" His voice had taken on a deadly edge.

She knew, because she felt the same anger simmering in herself. "Yes."

Her brother looked at his general, who had the same grim expression. "Take us there."

In a rush she turned, received a sword and pushed through the doors. She knew how to get to the cellar access doors and _knew_ they would be stopped. Just then she had absolutely no reservations about killing anyone who stood in her way. She was barely out the doors before she began running. Her brother was right behind her and their men behind him. The entire Narnian Company passed two entrances with soldiers. Only at the last entrance did any of them try to stop them.

They grabbed Lucy, which was at the top of the list of bad things to do in _any_ situation. Peter flowed forward and killed the guard, barely without stopping. The second guard was dispatched by Oreius in two seconds flat. Peter pushed his sister in front of him again, trusting she knew where to go.

She did. She led them down corridors where they didn't see a single, living soul. She led them down stairs and through rooms that had never been used. Peter wondered how his sister had such an intimate knowledge of the palace. In his fury towards the man, who imprisoned his brother, he was glad that she seemed to know the place better than the Tisroc himself. The first dead guards they saw, were at the top of the winding stair that led to the cellars.

Peter instantly sprang forward, closely followed by his guards and Lucy herself. He took the steps down, two at the time. He was wearing his leisure clothes, but would have marched into war nude if it meant reaching his brother. On the bottom level they saw the first real carnage that night. Seven guards had been slaughtered. Arms and legs had been removed with surgical precision. It seemed the intent had been to cause pain and since the walls had been built to contain screams of pain, it was no surprise that no one had heard. The bodies were still warm and the blood saturated the air with a metallic tinge.

Only one cell door was open. A guard was lying inside. A dagger protruding from his lower back, in his spine. He was still alive, but not for long. Peter saw chains hanging from the ceiling. Vomit on the floor. The smell was sickening, but the thing that made his body shiver, was a small pool of blood that had been trod in. He instantly started quivering with rage.

"Check the other rooms." he ordered though he knew this had been his brother's cell. He didn't know how, but it was unmistakably Edmund's.

Glancing at Lucy, he saw his own expression mirrored in hers. She was staring at the dying guard, one hand clutched around her cordial. With sure steps she walked over and kneeled. She turned the man over and looked calmly down at him. It wasn't the first time she had seen a severed spine. Not the first time she had seen dead people. Peter wasn't surprised by her reaction one bit. What surprised him was the fact that every fiber in his being hoped that she wouldn't waste one drop on him.

He watched from the door without interfering. Lucy had a mind of her own and a sense of justice Peter could never hope to obtain. Who was he to argue if she decided to save this man? Even if he didn't deserve saving. But deep inside – so deep he rarely looked, out of fear of what he'd find – a little voice spoke. It reminded him that he and his sister were of equal minds. She was a female version of himself. Strong. Tempered. Furiously protective of her family and full of righteous anger towards any who harmed them.

He watched the dying man as she leaned in and whispered to him. He was very obviously in pain. Peter's eyes could have set fire to ice just then. She leaned in as though to comfort him. Speaking in a soft, hushed voice. But there was something off. Her body was too stiff. Usually she would mold herself around those with whom she spoke, almost acting as a living shield. It was much the same way Peter molded himself around his siblings when they spoke.

Oreius or Kanell had walked in behind him, but he didn't turn to acknowledge him.

Lucy nodded and rose. The man started whimpering and tried to reach out for her, but she ignored him. Peter smirked when he saw her eyes. Full of fire. They would both go to hell for this. For their brother. "He says that about a handful of men came in and took Edmund with them."

He still whimpered softly in the corner. Peter felt a sting of pity and almost walked over to put him out of his misery. "How was Edmund when they took him?" he asked absently.

"Very weak from the torture he received, but the guard was under strict orders not to kill him until he had a confession."

His empathy dropped in seconds. The guard deserved every ounce of pain he felt. Peter nodded. He didn't need to know what they were trying to convict his brother of. It didn't matter. "And did he confess?" He already knew the answer.

Lucy smirked savagely. "No."

"Does he know where they went?"

"No." She glanced back, but decided against looking too closely. "He said they never spoke, never made a sound. Like ghosts."

"Assassins?" Peter asked curiously. He glanced back at Oreius

The great centaur nodded slowly. "Assassins," he repeated to himself in thought.

Lucy looked as though she thought the idea was too farfetched. What would professional killers want with her brother?

"And they didn't kill him?" her brother asked.

"No. The guard says they came to _save_ him." She glanced at Oreius. "Made it sound like he was a friend of theirs."

Only then did Peter turn to his general fully. "Have you ever heard about anything like this?"

Oreius frowned. "There are rumors about rogue warriors. Some say they come from a southern tribe. Others say they're fire-breathing dragons." He shook his head and glanced at the guard. "They have no source of origin and could very well be pure fantasy."

Peter nodded. "They could be anything from Telmarines to Talking Pigs, basically."

Lucy grabbed his arm. "Do you think it was? Telmarines."

"Possible. In that case they would head west before heading north."

"If it was Calormene men they will head south. Go deeper."

"And if it's Archenlanders, or islanders they'll head north." Lucy finished.

"Do you wish us to split up, your Majesty?" Oreius asked calmly.

There was a shadow around his eyes. One Peter had seen whenever he or Edmund were in danger. "I want to know which direction they took before we start hunting them."

"But they could be anywhere-" Lucy tried.

"So send Animals. We have a few good trackers with us. Send them to the suspected exits and get me a direction."

Oreius nodded and immediately called for them. "Amber, Spavia and Charley. Take one bailey each. South, West and North." They nodded and instantly took off with one guard for protection each. "Kast." The Panther came over. "Check all the smaller exits. Search any exit eight people may have escaped through." The Panther nodded and slipped out of the room without a sound.

Peter and Lucy hadn't heard a single word their general had uttered. Both were staring at the guard who had died only seconds ago. Oreius' expression softened. "My Queen,"

Lucy turned to look at him and Peter instinctively followed.

"We do not heal our enemies on the battlefield," he said slowly. "Nor do we celebrate death." She listened to him attentively. "Do as you always do. Mourn that such acts are necessary to protect those you love." He placed a giant hand on her shoulder and one on her neck. She was almost as tall as Peter now. "And know I would have done the same had the decision been mine to make."

Her face saddened at his words. They were wise as most often when he spoke, but they didn't absolve her. Instead of telling him that, she nodded and dismissed him.

"General, will you see that our horses are readied and the last of the guard gathered in the courtyard." Peter asked.

Oreius bowed and turned. He assigned Kanell with the task, knowing the young Centaur would want to do something productive. Peter didn't hesitate when Oreius turned. He drew his sword with a fluid motion. Lucy frowned and followed him. "Where are you going?"

"To kill the Tisroc."

". . .What?" Lucy followed in her brother's wake, not for one instant unsure that _that_ was _exactly_ what he intended to do. "Peter, you can't." She didn't dare reach out and stop him.

"Watch me." he growled.

"Oreius!" she shouted as she followed her brother up the stairs. The Centaur cautiously followed his sovereigns. "Peter, you _can't_ kill the Tisroc."

"Why not?" Peter was taking two steps at the time.

Oreius, who now understood their rush, followed as quickly as his four hoofed legs allowed him. Lucy had to hike up her skirt to keep up. "Because kings don't kill kings. You know _this_!"

Peter whirled on her with fury that almost made her fall back. "He intended to kill my _brother_!" He glared at her and his general. "There's nothing I can't do to him now."

"Peter, please listen!" Lucy was hot on his heels. Oreius as well. "If you kill him you declare war. Think for just a minute."

They reached the corridor that led to the Tisroc's private rooms.

"We've just been in battle with the Giants – and Rabadash two years ago. Another war would ruin Narnia. If you kill him they'll put one of his sons on the throne. A son that won't be nearly as easy to control."

"Queen Lucy makes a valid point, your Majesty." Oreius said.

Peter paused, his sword still raised. Lucy hurried around to face him. "With this over the Tisroc, he'll practically be ours. He won't dare raise a thumb unless we tell him to." The fire had returned to her eyes. "If he declares war, I'll get in line behind you, but as we stand now _we_ have the advantage. If you kill him, that changes."

Peter watched her carefully. His eyes drifted to his calm general as he considered their points. "No." He started walking again. He realized the validity of their suggestions and knew he should follow them. He knew what Aslan would want him to do. He froze. He knew what his _brother_ would want him to do. His brother, ever the diplomat despite his temper. Edmund who considered councils from wise as well as insane with equal respect. Peter sighed and closed his eyes. He allowed his shoulders to sag. He could already feel the conflicting urges, pulling him in opposite directions.

Lucy put a tiny hand on his shoulder. "Pete-"

"General Oreius!" A mild voice called. A voice one did not hear very often.

All three turned and saw Kast sprinting down the hall to reach them. "I've found the trail of King Edmund." Three jaws dropped. "They came in through the south-east bailey. They slaughtered fifty soldiers."

Oreius and Lucy shared an astonished look.

"Everyone was murdered in their sleep, your Majesties. Only the two guards on duty put up a fight. No one in the castle besides us knows."

"Have you informed captain Kanell?" Oreius asked.

Kast nodded.

"Then take us there."

They followed the Panther as quickly as they could. When they reached the bailey, they found the rest of their guard waiting. Their horses as well. Kast gestured to a dormitory access a few feet away. "Just there. All of them look as though they sleep."

Peter quickly followed him inside, joined by his sister, Oreius, Tavian and Titus. Though it was dark, moonlight shone in through a line of small windows. It was one of two dorms and over twenty men had been killed in their sleep. They were dead without a doubt. Each kill was precise and deadly. Lucy didn't even have to check the other dorm for survivors. If it looked like this one, there wouldn't be any. She glanced at her brother's stunned expression.

"Well at least we know he's protected."

Peter swallowed. "I'm not sure you're seeing this in the right perspective, Lu." He looked at her, but quickly turned back to the quiet carnage. "Not even our best officers can kill this effectively."

Lucy knew that. She had just hoped her brother wouldn't remember. "I know." She reached up and maneuvered him around. "Let's go."

They mounted and set out from the castle without giving word or notifying anyone about the deaths. In Peter's mind those fifty soldiers might as well have been _his_ victims. He would have done the same if they had gotten in his way. The best thing he could do was follow his brother's trail and send word to the Tisroc if any trouble came of the deaths.

They tracked the assassins out of the city, across the northern bridge. Peter glanced at his officer in the silver glow of the moon. Clouds were beginning to form in the west. "They're heading to Archenland."

Oreius nodded. Both felt a sense of determination set in. This was good news. Archenland wouldn't allow an enemy of Narnia to cross. "Send a Falcon." All Peter had to do was inform King Lune.

They made a heading towards the Blue Mountains that flanked Stormness Head. Each one of the Narnians moved like they had but one purpose in life. To hunt and kill the men that had taken their King.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I hope the amount of Angry!Peter was satisfactory? I'm still wrestling with the ending of the story. That might be cause for a slight delay, but we still have three chapters to go before it becomes an issue. Four more nights if everything goes according to plan, and this little sucker will be over and done with. I'll start on the sequel as soon as inpiration hits.


	22. Chapter 22: Seekers

**Disclaimer: **Don't own.

**Claim:** I am the proud inventor and owner of Star :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 22: Seekers<strong>

Edmund heard the screams before he saw them. Cries of pain erupted suddenly. The door that had until then blocked out the rest of the world suddenly seemed insignificant. He swallowed down the pain from being punched and watched the guard reach for a weapon. His eyes, trained on the closed door. The handle turned, but it was locked from the inside.

Then came the first boom. The heavy door vibrated. The guard flinched. A second boom. Edmund realized belatedly that someone was trying to break in. And although the guard's fear affected him, it didn't override the tiny sense of relief he felt. Someone very strong was breaking in. Whether or not they intended to kill him, he didn't know. He just hoped it would be quick.

The door didn't explode in a spray of splinters like he had expected.

Instead the rhythmic booms suddenly stopped and everything went very silent. And like a mouse in the night, a series of small clicks echoed through his cell. The guard was hyperventilating. Sweating. Gripping his sword. His friends outside had stopped screaming. In a terribly slow movement the handle was pressed down. With an ominous squeak, to which Edmund was now accustomed, the door was pushed open.

Everything outside was dark. Lanterns had been doused. A breath of fresh air was followed by heavy sounds of breathing. Edmund squeezed his eyes shut. No matter what happened, it would happen _now_. And to his surprise he heard no war cry. He eyes stayed closed as the guard began whimpering in fear. Heavy footsteps echoed through the small room.

A scent followed with it. Leather and fresh grass. A swoosh and a choked sound. Something sliding through bone and then a heavy slap as a human body hit the floor. Keys jangled and someone's heavy breaths. His eyes snapped open and he flinched when a hand touched his cheek. His breathing was ragged. What he saw blasted the pain away in a flourish of relief. For the first time, in what felt like years, he took a deep breath. Romel was staring into his eyes with tears coming out of his own. He unlocked the chains and helped Edmund to the floor. The young king broke down. It started as shivers, both of pain and fear. It turned to tears that rolled unchecked down his cheeks. It ended in violent sobs and fingers, squeezing the fabric of his shirt.

Then and there he swore an undying allegiance to his rescuers.

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><p>Romel allowed the last guard to slip to the floor with a dagger in his spine. He heard the others step up behind him. The keys he had lifted off the dying guard would unlock the boy. The kid was a sight. Beaten black and blue. One side of his body was almost completely covered in bruises.<p>

And with a great rush of air Romel felt something he hadn't felt in centuries. _Fear_. If there was internal damage he would die. Edmund would die. He would simply die and not come back. With shaking hands he unlocked the chains that held him to the ceiling. The second he touched him, they both flinched. Edmund's eyes shot open with fear radiating from them. Romel could feel tears in his own.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. The kid was the one who was supposed to survive. Romel had no fear of dying. He had tried it too often to fear it. It was the life afterwards that scared him.

He freed him and lowered them both very gently to the floor. Edmund was panting and shaking. His first sob brought with it a flow of stuttered words. "I p-promise I'll never leave. I prom-promise I won't leave- please-pl. . ." A sob. "P-Please help m-me. Please-"

"Shh," The kid's hands were clamped onto his shirt and armor. "Shh, deep breaths." Romel leaned in and allowed himself to feel some of the fear that was drowning them. Edmund couldn't die. "It's alright. It's going to get better- 'Via!"

The blonde was by his side in seconds. Her hands checking every injury on the boy.

"Is he going to die?" Romel's voice was shaking.

Lauviah kept checking him. Kept going over his injuries.

"Is he dying!"

"N-No." She looked as terrified as Romel felt. "Not if we get him the bloody hell out of here." He had never heard so much rage in her voice.

Without thinking too much about what would happen if he did, Romel lifted him up and slung him over his shoulders. He carried Ed out the door, into the room where his crew was anxiously waiting. "Let's MOVE!" he bellowed.

They quickly repositioned themselves around Romel and Edmund. Not shields anymore, but swords. Prepared to strike out at anyone who stood in their path, with a righteous fury the world had only seen few times in the past. Leaving the palace, they didn't bother with silence. Speed was of the utmost importance if Lauviah's expression was anything to go by. They raced through the vacant halls and out the south-east entrance. Past the dead soldiers and into the quiet streets of Tashbaan.

They found Hamied and Stell fairly quickly. Both froze in shock when they saw Romel carrying a very badly injured Edmund. Everyone was saddled and ready within minutes. Edmund was perched in front of Romel. They rode as if Death itself was chasing after them. Their horses clattered through the streets and across the northern bridge like thunder. Black cloaks and dust fluttered in their wake as they made their way across the desert.

Romel pushed the horses well past dawn. Edmund's condition seemed improved, but Lauviah still looked wrong. Something about her clipped movements or how her eyes were constantly wide open. It made Romel on edge. _She_ knew something was wrong, and judging from her expression alone, so did _he_. Edmund was in much worse shape than any of them realized. It wasn't until the second evening, when he accidentally caught Lauviah's eyes that he felt his heart settle.

She wasn't panicked anymore. Instead a great sadness had taken hold. She looked inconsolable. But even despite the obvious sadness, she tended to Edmund's wounds as if she was confident she could heal them. Romel wasn't sure the others knew, until they had to stop after crossing the Archenland border. Edmund began struggling to breathe.

He was placed on the ground and all gathered in a loose circle around him. The sun was setting. Archer and Stell took up scouting positions, but kept shooting worries glances his way. Arthur was kneeled by his side, running his hand through his dark hair. "It's f-fine." Edmund smiled.

None of them returned it. He looked pale. Too pale.

"I'm just tired." His voice was barely audible. He placed his hand on Lauviah's and smirked. "Stop worrying." A cough. "I just need. . . a break."

True to his word, he tried to sit a few minutes later. Romel and Arthur helped him to stand and supported him when his legs wouldn't bear the weight. Lauviah started crying. Silent and almost invisible tears that kept falling. And still she moved with the same decisiveness as always.

Edmund only took one, shaky step before his body gave out. He fell back down with a sharp cry and refused to get up. "We have to get into the mountains. Head west. Maybe Zoren can help-"

"No," he whispered. Something lit up in his eyes. "Head north." It was like watching a spark flicker into a greedy flame. "Ride north."

Romel shook his head. He didn't know what to say. _They couldn't_, seemed like an excuse. "There's nothing north."

"Narnia. . ." he sighed.

He said it as if the mere word brought relief to his pain. Romel could feel frustration building inside him. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"Romel!" Archer called back. "We've got company!"

"How far?" Romel asked and got up.

Archer greeted him and sent an almost sympathetic look Edmund's way. "About half a day. It's a lone rider, I think."

Romel paled. "You _see_ him?"

Archer nodded and walked a bit away from the group. He pointed due south. True enough there was a lone horse, galloping across the plains. Romel frowned. It looked rider-less. Small. He glanced at Archer and saw that the scout noticed as well, but found it too strange to mention. "Are you sure it's following our trail?" Why would a _horse_ follow a human trail?

The plains were quite flat and the muddy tracks they left in their wake were easy to spot. "I'm sure. Hale veered off at one point to leave dummy tracks, but it didn't follow. It stayed on course." He looked at Romel. "Whoever it is, is coming straight for us."

With decisive movements, Romel turned. "We keep heading north."

"Romel, we can't." Valera said sadly. She too could tell there was nothing they could do. Edmund's bruises were worsening which meant internal bleeding. "If we cross into Narnian territory we'll be killed."

"We'll be reborn, he _won't_!" Romel barked. "Mount up!" No one argued further and set off. They rode furiously towards the Narnian border. It meant crossing a mountain pass near Stormness Head. It meant the horses would wear out. Romel wasn't sure how far he would continue if no one stopped him. At that moment he was prepared to ride into hell if it meant saving just this one man.

He was struck by the unfairness of it all. Why did the people around them always die? Why did _they_ get to live while everyone they loved kept dying? The witch had known what she was doing when she cursed them with life. It wasn't difficult dying. The difficult part was watching those you loved die around you.

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><p>Peter had never moved so swiftly. He felt sure that neither of them had. Lucy's mount was speeding along side him like the wind itself. It should have been named Swift. They reached the Archenland border around dawn and didn't stop. He never stopped praying Aslan to lend their horses speed. <em>Just a little longer. Just a little faster<em>, his litany went.

Every time he thought his horse would give out, a breath of warm air flowed past their backs and gave them speed. No one stopped. None of them paused. Hooves pounded across plains of grass until they reached the road that cut across the pass of Stormness Head. The pass that led into Narnia.

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><p>The first of their horses gave out around dusk the next evening. Arthur crashed, but luckily didn't sustain any serious injuries. His horse screamed as it went down. Which eliminated the possibility of it further. Edmund's breathing was shallow. He kept muttering words of nonsense. Sisters and fireblossoms.<p>

It wasn't until they had decided to make camp a bit away from the path, Romel realized what it all meant. It wasn't until he remembered about the recent changes that had occurred in Narnia. It wasn't until it was nearly too late that everything clicked into place.

"Romel, the rider is approaching!" Archer called. A few of them took up sentry positions in the shrubs alongside of the road.

Romel stayed with Edmund and looked into his brown eyes like he would find answers there. Lauviah was checking his injuries again. Everyone tensed when they heard the distinctive _clop-clop_ of hooves on gravel.

"What the. . ." Hamied mumbled. On the path behind them, came a little donkey. "It's Star," he whispered. They stayed in hiding for fear it might be a trap.

The little donkey had ridden all the way from Tashbaan in the footsteps of her master. They were stunned into silence when she noticed them through the mist and calmly clapped off the road to greet them. She glanced around and quickly saw Edmund, lying a few feet away. Romel gripped his sword as she approached, but didn't draw it. She came over and lipped Ed's hair the same affectionate way she had since first meeting him.

Edmund smiled and raised his hand to her muzzle.

Then, in the strangest turn of events, she spoke. The donkey as it turned out, wasn't a donkey at all, but a Donkey. That is to say, a Talking Donkey. "Hello, Edmund."

All besides Edmund flinched. Most of them looked confused and downright suspicious. The boy just kept smiling. Then, with a little breathy laugh, he asked, "Is your name really Star?"

The Lady Donkey let out a low whine of sympathy. "My name is Giselle, Edmund." She lipped his hair again to his great enjoyment.

He chuckled and shifted his eyes to Romel. "Leave. . ." he breathed. "Leave me here. On the path."

Romel didn't know what to say. They were all gathered around the dying boy and the Donkey. They were timid, he noticed. It was a trait he had never seen in his men before. All his trusted soldiers were timid. They were perched on logs and rocks, watching Edmund slowly die. "We're not that far from the Narnian border." Romel soothed. It felt so _close_. He was almost starting to believe the kid would magically heal once they crossed the borders.

It would have been worth dying for.

"No." Edmund smiled like he knew a secret he wasn't telling. "We're not." He coughed again, but quickly settled. Giselle awkwardly lay down in the dirt next to him. "I remember now, Romel."

At once they all tensed. Everyone's eyes turned to him. The pale boy in their midst. The youth they had taken in, hoping he was one of them. A boy they had all gotten to know. Romel suddenly smiled. They never would have taken him in if they hadn't suspected he was one of them. They would have left him with Zoren. He saddened again. None of this would have happened. He would be without their friendship, but he would be alive. "What do you remember?" Romel asked quietly. He wasn't really interested anymore. Nothing Edmund said would save him.

"I remember my name. . ." he breathed.

Romel didn't let it sink in at first. He frowned until it slowly began to make sense. And then, like a mule-kick to the stomach, it clicked into place. "Tell me your name," His voice had silenced to a whisper as well.

"It's _Edmund_." He smiled as if having discovered the secret to living. But it was true. Never before had he spoken his name as he just did.

Romel saw the disappointed faces of his soldiers, but couldn't feel that same disappointment. "We already knew that, pup." Lauviah said with a smile and stroked his black hair back.

Instead of being discouraged, Edmund just smiled wider. His eyes caught Romel's. The boy knew what he was thinking.

"One of the four, Narnian thrones is occupied by King Edmund the Just." the commander said; his voice faraway.

Edmund visibly relaxed. "Exactly."

Giselle was watching Romel intently until she looked back down at the young king. "I wasn't sure if it was safe to tell them, your Majesty."

Edmund smiled. She had known all along.

"What?" Arthur sent Romel a sharp look. "What are you saying?" He looked back down at Edmund with a disbelieving frown. "Are you saying you're _him_? _You're_ king?"

The mood changed in their little camp. An air of interest, one could almost call it. "Leave me here," Edmund sighed.

Romel heard the assorted arguments around him. His loyal soldiers, saying that they never left one of their own behind. He glanced over turned to Giselle. "I'm ahead of a company of riders. Humans traveling with Narnians." she said. Her eyes seemed alight. "I think it might be the king and queen."

"We're _not_ honestly going to leave him here!" Lauviah demanded.

Romel glanced down at Edmund before he locked eyes with Valera. "We run." He got up and carefully lifted the boy into his arms. Edmund moaned and clung weekly to Romel. "We leave him here and run."

"They'll chase after us if he dies before they get here." Valera said calmly. She knew exactly what her commander was thinking.

"If we go any further he'll die and so will we." Romel declared. "If we leave him here, we all have a chance." He set Edmund down in the middle of the road and removed his cloak. He bundled it up under his head. Valera stepped forward and offered hers to drape over him.

"You can't just leave him in the mountains and take off!" Arthur argued. "Any number of things could happen to him."

"I'll protect him," Giselle said proudly. She was standing next to her ruler, ears flickering back and forth.

Romel doubted she could protect him from the predators that roamed the mountains. He also didn't doubt that she would die for him. "How far behind you are the sovereigns?"

She glanced back in the direction they had come. "Less than half a day if my nose is anything to go by."

Romel nodded and went to unsaddle his horse. They wouldn't need the horses. Arthur was still simmering. He stalked over and kneeled next to Edmund. "You can't ask me to leave you here." Bright eyes, even brighter with unshed tears.

Edmund smiled up at him. Romel could just barely make out that he tried to lift his hand, but failed. Arthur reached down and grabbed it. Lauviah came over as well. She kneeled next to him and kissed his forehead. A tear dripped from her eye. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Edmund smiled like he hadn't a care in the world. "King Lune had problems. . ." A deep breath. "-with thugs in these mountains a few years ago."

Romel stopped what he was doing to listen. As did all the others.

"We helped him, but could never completely get rid of th-" A cough. He smirked even though Lauviah was frowning through her tears. "So he retracted Archenland's borders by ten miles. Giving us control and responsibility. . . of keeping the southern pass."

Romel felt his heart begin to pound.

"We're nine miles from the old, Narnian border." he whispered. He allowed his head to fall to the side and looked Romel in the eye. He wasn't just a boy any longer. "Welcome home." He was a king.

Romel's breath left him. For an instant fear swelled up inside him and made him sweat. They were in Narnia. The curse had previously turned innocent civilians into rabid creatures. He glanced at Giselle, worried what she might turn into. If fury would possess her like it had others he had faced.

"Then we _really_ need to leave," Archer said wearily.

To their surprise Edmund let out a great chuckle. He let his head fall back as he stared into the cloudy sky. "They're coming,"

Romel cast a look in their previous direction. If what he was saying was true, then they would be safe. There would be no persecution. They might even become friends. They had sworn loyalty to a king. But even so, he felt an all too familiar fear seize him. They needed to move. To run. "Release the horses. Take what you need from the saddlebags. We continue on foot from here." Only the two of them moved at first. Romel walked over to where Edmund was lying and kneeled. "I'm sorry, but we can't be here when they arrive." He placed a hand on Ed's forehead. It felt cool. Romel had never been so torn.

But Edmund just smiled. It was a serene smile, fit for a king. "Oaths don't have to be spoken, Romel."

The worn commander frowned a moment before he rose to his feet. He didn't say anything else and turned his back before he could change his mind. He waved them all off and left. They slipped into the mist without a sound. After walking five minutes Romel stopped them with his heart beating furiously in his chest. "Keep going. I'll follow you, just keep heading west. Arthur, you're in charge."

Arthur sent him a longing look, but did as ordered.

Valera watched their friends leave and her leader turn back. She waited until the others were out of sight before she turned and followed Romel. "Did you think the order didn't apply to you?" he growled when she kneeled on the forest floor next to him.

"If you didn't want me to follow, you would have given me command." she said calmly.

Romel huffed. "Don't we think highly of ourselves,"

Valera smirked, but didn't look away from their mark. "I'm just realistic."

They were kneeled down behind a fallen log together. The road was almost fifty yards away. Mist obscured most of their view, but they could still plainly see Giselle as she lay down next to Edmund.

"How long do you intend to stay?" Valera asked calmly.

"As long as it takes."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Still drinking plenty of fluids and taking my vitamins, but the cold persists. Thanks for sticking with it. Hope you liked the turn of events.


	23. Chapter 23: Discovery

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Narnia.

**AN:** Finished with the story, started on the sequel. It will take longer since I'm not feeling much inspiration at the moment, but I'm hoping it will come.

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><p><strong>Chapter 23: Discovery<strong>

Edmund watched them slip into the mist without a sound. He couldn't stop smiling. It felt wonderful to remember everything. Some of it was bad, but none of it was as bad as he feared. He felt relieved. His breathing was slowly becoming shallower. The ache in his stomach and chest was debilitating. Giselle kept shooting anxious looks in the supposed direction of his siblings. He coughed and earned a worried nibble in his hair. "You remind me of a dear friend of mine," he whispered.

Giselle whickered the way only Donkeys can. "Shh," She lipped his cheek.

Edmund smirked and coughed again. It was like someone was pressing down on his chest and air suddenly became impossible to draw. He turned over when he tasted copper and spat a little glop onto the road. Giselle let loose a worried-bordering-on-panicked whine and continued to nuzzle him. He wheezed and stayed on his side when more blood leaked from his mouth. It wasn't much, but it was constant. The Donkey lay back down and supported his back.

"Not long now, little one." she mumbled.

Edmund felt exhausted. He closed his eyes and swallowed. The blood had lessened and he rolled onto his back. "When do you suppose they'll be here?" He wasn't worried about dying. Hadn't been for many years. But he _missed_ them. He missed his lovely sisters and their unending grace. He missed his brother's concern. He missed Oreius' stern looks and errant claps on the back of his head. He missed Phillip with a passion that surprised him.

"Someone-"

A whinny in the distance.

Giselle sprang to her hooves. "Here! Your majesties, HERE!"

A chorus of hoof-beats and worried voices filled the mist around them. Edmund had begun coughing again and was expelling more blood. His eyes were closed.

"Edmund?" a woman's voice called.

_Lucy_.

"Ed!" His brother.

He was turned on his back and a warm hand cupped his cheek. His lips were parted and a little drop trickled down his tongue. It was like liquid fire. Like the moonshine the Dwarves made. Tasteless and yet searing. Burning and tingling. It filled his stomach with warmth that pushed away the pain. It spread through every vein until his fingers tingled. It buzzed through him and made him smile. He opened his eyes and beheld the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. Two faces were disturbingly close to him. Big eyes, full of tears, peered down at him.

"Hullo," he whispered. He smirked when Peter sniffed and promptly pulled him into a hug. His strong arms wrapped around his back until it felt like there was nothing else. Lucy lunged at them as well with a yelp. Edmund kept trying to squeeze as much of them as he could into his hands. He tried to hug both of them at once and felt utterly insufficient.

Peter was clinging to him and shivering. He began crying in earnest. "You bloody, stubborn. . ." A sob. "-ignorant. . ." Another sob. "-idiot, _child_!" His voice pitched on the last word.

Edmund giggled. Both of his bright siblings were crying. Lucy was laughing maniacally. In relief and joy and pain and anger. Every emotion vibrated through the hub until only love remained.

His siblings had always been passionate. Always full of life. He wasn't surprised at their reactions. He knew they would dole out a few more before the day was over. He expected some kind of telling-off from Peter.

But it was odd how subdued he felt. He could feel his siblings' hearts beat. He could feel them draw deep breaths. Their exhales tickled his collarbone. Even as they cried and held onto him for dear life, he couldn't feel anything but solemn. He glanced in the direction Romel had left and almost wanted to see them there.

It would've been nice to have them around. Someone who knew what he had been through. It would be a while before he could explain things properly to his siblings. It was a long story and he wasn't even sure if parts of it was his to tell.

He asked for a basin of water to wash away the blood. Lucy saw to it personally. He was next pulled to his feet. His sister kept running her hand over his neck and face. Peter was just staring at him with wide, tearful eyes. One, strong hand was clamped onto his shoulder. It didn't look like he intended to let go anytime soon. Edmund smiled and allowed them to maneuver him around. The Narnians all smiled at him. Pure relief that made Edmund's chest warm. It was nice to know he had been missed.

Kanell clapped the back of his head and pulled him in for a tight hug. Oreius greeted him like a proud father greeted his sons after a long absence. There was a secret smile at the corners of his mouth and an unreadable expression in his eyes. Something almost somber.

The giant Centaur placed a hand on his shoulder and one on his chin. He looked deeply into the young king's eyes. "It is good to see you," His deep voice rumbled with such familiarity that Edmund couldn't help but smile.

"It's good to be seen." He was still speaking in a low voice. It seemed wrong to speak in normal volume. Everything was already so loud and at the same time, so still. The mist covered them all in a blanket of silence. It _ate _sound. Giselle was introduced to the company and instantly hailed for her bravery and loyalty. Edmund allowed for his friends and subjects to greet him. Shake his hands, as Lucy had so long ago taught them. Hug him if they needed to. He allowed it because of Peter's steadying hand on his shoulder and because of the slight sense of loss. A lingering feeling that he was leaving something behind.

He was seated in front of his brother as they prepared to leave. His soldiers, stationed in a circle around the three sovereigns. Lucy was riding Tusk so close that the two horses constantly bumped into each other. Peter had his arm around him and another, gripping the reins.

As they left the mountain road, Edmund looked back. Though it seemed vacant, he knew there was something in the mist. Someone watching him. Someone who knew him. He smiled and earned a curious brow from his siblings. He looked down and didn't say anything.

With a single glance back he just nodded.

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><p>Word reached the Cair early in the morning. A fog was rolling in from the sea as it often did that time of year. An hour before dawn, a Raven came with news. King Edmund had been found. He, High King Peter and Queen Lucy were heading home. Only a league out. Susan almost collapsed. Her smile lit up and she started laughing breathlessly.<p>

She thanked that Raven and hugged one of the two Faun guards outside her room. She hardly noticed his surprised expression. She sped through the quiet halls and barged into the kitchens. Duffkin, the palace cook, jumped with a shriek when she barged in, breathless and smiling. Viska, a golden snub-nosed Monkey, dropped a fresh loaf of bread in fright. "Your _Majesty_!" Both the cook and pastry-chef looked at their queen with undiluted surprise.

Susan let out a breathless laugh. "King Edmund is on his way home. I was hoping you would make his favorite scones this morning?"

Both cooks lit up in joy. Duffkin smiled and came closer to greet his queen. "Certainly, Queen Susan." He glanced back at Viska for confirmation. The blue-faced Monkey nodded impatiently. "Certainly," he repeated with a smile.

Susan let out another breathy giggle. "Thank you." She took off without seeing the pleased smiles of her subjects. Also without seeing the glare Duffkin gave Viska when he picked up the ruined bread.

She ran up to ask the Dryads and ladies-in-waiting if they would help her set a table on the pelican-platform. It was a balcony with an eastern view. She had a feeling the sunlight would be brilliant that morning. It was still foggy and just a little bit cold, but with a cup of tea she didn't think anyone would mind. A table was set whilst she and her ladies giggled in anticipation. Soon, the rumor spread through the palace. Very soon after, it spread to the rest of Narnia.

A second Raven courier, Po, arrived with word that the sovereigns were only ten minutes away. Susan ran to the main courtyard and was greeted by an anxious, tiptoeing Horse. "Hello, Phillip."

"Oh, your majesty." He nodded politely.

As far as Horse-expressions went, they were all very similar. But if Susan's life had depended upon it, she would have sworn Philip was smiling. "When did you hear?"

"Just a few moments ago, your majesty."

Susan couldn't stop smiling. Several Animals and Creatures were creeping out into the courtyard to welcome home their king. Some with lanterns. "How is your leg?" She glanced down at the wrapped appendage with a sympathetic frown.

The proud Horse had pulled a tendon in his foreleg a week before Edmund's departure. He had been irregularly bedridden since. Susan suspected he had left his bed without permission from, Baldiar, his healer. She also pegged that as the reason he hadn't fully healed yet. Twice he was found, trying to cross Rush River in search of Edmund. How he escaped the temperamental, red-maned Centaur Lady she had no idea. The two were roughly the same size and she was one of the most stubborn healers Susan had ever known. If Phillip caught her sly smile, he was too overjoyed to notice.

A call preceded the caravan. Oreius rode in first with soldiers flanking the precious cargo in their midst. She saw Edmund, seated in front of his brother. Peter had a protective arm around his waist. Lucy rode pressed against his side.

Edmund was assisted down by his brother and sister. Both of whom had trouble tearing their eyes from him. He looked remarkably different compared to the last time she had seen him. He was standing taller. Not slumped over like usually. He almost had a full beard. His eyes seemed to have gone darker. He looked tired. Worn.

"Phillip!" she heard him shout. He smiled and greeted the Horse with a quick hug. He acted and moved like he always did, but there was a distinctive lack of purpose behind his movements now. He and Peter were trained as soldiers. They may have held the titles of kings, but they walked and thought like warriors. Every move had a purpose. Edmund seemed to have lost his.

"My king," Phillip lipped his Boy's hair and let loose a cross between a whicker and a laugh. "It's good to see you."

Ed clapped Phillip's neck and smiled. His eyes traveled around the courtyard until they landed on Susan's. The Horse graciously stepped back when his expression fell. She looked like a shadow of her usual self. He instantly saddened and felt the guilt of remaining lost even fiercer. When he began moving through the crowds a tear dripped from her eye. She shook as she drew a deep breath. In a fluent movement he reached out and hugged her. His arms wrapped around her shoulders. His hands squeezed into the fabric of her dress. He drew deep breaths of the flowery smell that was like an aura around her.

She kept shaking and crying. But not like Peter had. Not like Lucy. She cried silently. She shook instead of sobbing. She wrought her face in a frown instead of wailing. Her hands twisted in the shirt Romel had given him, like she was holding on for dear life. The thought of Romel sent a quick stab of sadness through him. He doubted he would ever shed this sense of loss. He would forever live in between states. Always happy, surrounded by those who loved him. Always sad, reminiscing those who had left him.

They were a lot alike, he and Susan. So much so that Edmund sometimes doubted if their two, brighter siblings noticed the nuances in her. Nuances he spotted very easily. Shades of grey. He pulled back and placed a hand on her cheek. She had bags under her eyes. _So no sleep_. Her skin was almost grey. _So a poor diet_. She had been torturing herself like Edmund would have tortured himself had the situation been reversed. He wasn't aware of the attentive looks from everyone in the courtyard.

He hardly heard when Peter declared that the Just King had returned. Or the roar of relief that followed. Nor did he feel it when Lucy grabbed them by the shoulders and led them away from the cheering crowds. Edmund kept his arm firmly around Susan's shoulders until they were inside the Cair.

They were clasped, arm in arm, and guided by Peter and Lucy to the pelican-platform. The sun had risen an inch above the horizon. The mist was still thick. It muffled the light. Instead of a sharp yellow, it remained a very pale gold. Blue wisps at the edge of the ocean. Seagulls were jeering at each other. Edmund was seated next to his sister.

He smiled at Peter and Lucy as they sat as well. His golden, baby sister smiled, but it was suddenly replaced with a horrible expression of fear. "What happened to your _ear_!" She reached across the table and stroked his hair back carefully.

Peter's smile vanished as well and was replaced with a look of fury. Susan only looked slightly less worried than she had seconds before. It worried Edmund to no end. Was this state of concern permanent since he had left? "Someone cut it off." He rubbed his half remaining earlobe. He never even knew the guard's name. The one Romel had killed. A flash of the dark cell blinked behind his eyelids.

"Edmund, what is it?" Peter asked worriedly.

Susan was gripping his arm under the table and staring at him. Lucy was still trying to examine to half-missing ear. He shook his head. "Nothing." He smirked, but had the feeling neither of them bought it at face value.

"Can I see?" Susan quietly asked and angled his head to inspect for herself. Edmund allowed her to. "Well at least it's the top half." she said and covered it back up with his dark hair.

Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, so she kissed her cheek as well. "At least it's _that_."

Lucy brightened and a sparkling smile lit up her face. Peter was the only one who still looked perturbed. He had drawn a knee up in front of his stomach and was considering whether or not to chew on a thumbnail. Edmund had a flash or Arthur sitting in much the same position and smiled. That seemed to brighten his brother's spirits considerably. The two, young shared a chuckle. Neither of them knew exactly why the other was laughing. Neither of them needed to.

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><p>Days passed in a blur. Edmund was reinstated after he was given several thorough examinations from various healers. He and Peter had slipped back into a comfortable routine. They would wake, train, eat, hold court, eat, study, drink tea, study again, eat and prepare for bed. Edmund had it down to a 'T'. He was getting so efficient that he was also getting bored.<p>

It seemed as if all his siblings had clicked back into whatever state they were in prior to his leave. Lucy had gone back to traveling the Eastern Ocean thin. Peter was planning winter food storages and Susan was running the Cair and attending things that needed fixing. She still had bags under her eyes, but she smiled more. Edmund knew there was something she wasn't telling them. Something causing little odd reactions here and there. Things that set Edmund off. Like the way she buttered her rolls in the morning. Or how she tilted her head when she laughed. Tiny things. Things he didn't expect his siblings to be aware of on a conscious level. Things _he_ was hardly aware of.

And despite their apparent bliss, Edmund knew they were still adjusting. Still adapting to the minute changes in each other. He knew why Lucy traveled so much. He knew why Susan laughed so much. He knew why his brother woke up with a jerk every morning. Because every night, starting two weeks after his return, Edmund had woken up with the same nightmare. And every night his brother would wake with him.

Edmund didn't need to tell his brother about the 'mares any longer. If he even asked, Edmund often answered with "the usual". Sometimes he woke up earlier or later in the dream. Sometimes he woke up screaming, shivering or crying. Sometimes he woke up and felt nothing but a dull hollowness where he should have felt warmth. And he was tearing his family apart. He knew that with the utmost certainty. They all did.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> We leave this on a somber note. More tomorrow. Just two more chapters and we're done! :D Thanks for sticking with it so loyally. Love you guys!


	24. Chapter 24: Acceptance

**Disclaimer:** Seriously! That slap is approaching real slow like if you can't remember all the previous ones ;)

**AN:** We're nearing the end here, folks. I'm working on two other stories. One is almost complete (and we're talking 45 chapters here). Final round of editing will begin once the last chapter is finished. I left a bad segment of it on my bio-page. Don't judge the story on that one paragraph alone. It's much better than that :) As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the last two chapters.

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><p><strong>Chapter 24: Acceptance<strong>

Winter came and went. Christmas was celebrated as it was every year. Those who couldn't feed themselves were invited to stay at the Cair. Friends of the court were invited and most usually accepted. Susan threw a splendid Christmas dinner. Lucy begged her siblings to go ice-skating with her. Everything progressed. The snow melted and turned everything grey.

And still Edmund woke up at night. Still, Susan's smiles didn't reach her eyes. Still, Lucy seemed distant even when she was in the same room as them.

Spring arrived. A fresh smell, one Edmund had sorely missed, followed. The smell of fresh grass. Of spring flowers. Dances and parties were held aplenty as they were every spring. The grand Spring Feast, being one of them. Edmund visited friends and entertained ambassadors. Peter and Oreius oversaw new recruits for the Royal Guard. The Dryads changed colors on their trees.

Black branches turned light brown and green buds erupted everywhere.

And one day, in the midst of summer, a caravan arrived. Pulling carts and wagons, a selection of humans calmly walked out of the Western Wild. They settled on a field not far from Cair Paravel. They brought with them a strange selection of music and songs. Of scents and spices. Strange birds in cages and too many fabrics for Edmund to properly name every color.

He woke up that morning of arrival and looked out his window. Telmarines. Gypsies. The kings and queens gathered that afternoon on a balcony overlooking the strange fair. The Animals and Creatures had no reservations about trading with the nomads. Most of them didn't know the details about Edmund's disappearance. The sovereigns looked at each other and stayed in their castle.

A week passed and still the nomads stayed. Edmund had no incentive to join them. Neither did Peter or Susan. Whether out of exasperation, stubbornness, curiosity or faith in something beyond their understanding, Lucy was the first to move. It was she who made the decision to go. They had visited every year since the nomads first started arriving. She crassly persisted that she didn't see a reason not to attend this year.

Peter had looked at them with a fleeting look of rage. Susan as well, had lost what little color she had. Edmund was torn. A part of him wanted to hide. He wanted to crawl back into bed and lay in the cool darkness until night came and darkness swallowed him. Another part, the part that still hadn't been stamped down, wanted desperately to explore. He wanted to go searching for something. Someone.

So they went. The girls quickly relaxed and began laughing and smiling. Talking with the different venders. Edmund and Peter broke off from them not long after realizing that the girls were faring better than they. The high king stayed one and a half step behind his brother at all times. Edmund had the sense that he was The Boy With the Living Shadow. They would get apprehensive looks from most of the nomads. They would get giggles from girl who dreamed of becoming queens.

Edmund made it through the lines of carriages and wagons without drawing his sword. Peter, without calling for tactical retreat. They were both willing to admit a loss when a voice suddenly caught Edmund's attention.

"_Quel teñamos aquíl?_" It sounded a thousand years old. A giggle. Just as their first time he had heard it.

Edmund turned, with his brother almost glued to his back. In front of a carriage, full of animal skins, stood a short woman with grey hair. Brown skin like paper and missing teeth when she smiled. Edmund couldn't help but smile in return. "Whilamina?" He stepped closer with the same caution he would've used had she been a shy doe.

"Who is she?" Peter whispered and put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"_Aha. . . El no estác urir_." She frowned a moment, but couldn't hold it for long before she again broke into a smile. "_Romel envía su amosur_."

Peter smiled placidly behind his brother's back, not understanding a word she had said. Edmund frowned in recognition of some of the words. The lilt and way she said them. But he couldn't deduce their meaning. He greeted her with a slightly disappointed nod.

The testy, little lady seemed to realize their incomprehension and huffed. She shuffled over and took Edmund's hands in her own. He felt Peter grab his sword. "Romel- ahh. . .sen's llaave." Her thick accent coiled the words and almost made them indistinguishable.

But their meaning wasn't lost on Edmund. He froze and his expression fell. His brother noticed and started squeezing his shoulder. "Edmund? What's wrong?"

Whilamina smiled and patted his cheek. She giggled and picked up her little wagon. Only turning once, she waved, before she vanished into the forest.

"Ed, what is it?" Peter had moved into his brother's line of sight though Edmund was staring blindly at the lady as she whistled on her way out. "Ed!"

He flinched and looked wide-eyed at his brother. "Nothing," he whispered. "It's nothing. I just- I. . ."

"Who's Romel?" Peter hadn't told his brother that he had heard him scream the name over and over. In every nightmare. To Peter, that name was synonymous with hurt and anguish.

Ed swallowed and looked away. Looked at the crowds of laughing Narnians. "I can't tell you here."

The eldest sibling let out an indignant huff. "Where then?"

"Home. With Lucy and Susan." He was very quickly realizing the mistake he had made, keeping the secret for so long. _Aslan_, he should have told them months ago. To keep something like this a secret. The possible effects it could have on, not just his siblings and how they ruled, but every Narnian who had ever heard the story of the Irins.

He suddenly became very aware of how poorly he had handled his return. He also became aware that he hadn't really _wanted_ to return. He had missed his siblings, but had he missed being a king? He took off towards the castle whilst Peter rounded up the girls. He didn't even notice the worried soldiers that followed him back.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Uploading the last chapter now.

Translations:

"_Quel teñamos aquíl?_" - "Who have we here?"

"_Ahh... El no estác urir_." - "Ahh, Still not healed."

"_Romel envía su amosur_." - "Romel sends his love."


	25. Chapter 25: Recovery

**Disclaimer:** Once more for the cheap seats: I don't own Narnia. I tried bying it once, but hadn't the money so I settled on a small island in the South Pacific.

**AN:** Here we go. The very last chapter for some time. I'll try to get in some more work on my other stories so you won't have to wait too long. A lot of questions are left unanswered, but that's the intent. If you have anything you want/need to know, feel free to PM me or leave a review. I'll try to answer. Thanks for reading, reviewing and enjoying. Have I mentioned you rock? :*

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>**5: Recovery**

Slowly realizing his own arrogance, and general mishandling of the situation, Peter saddened. Edmund had gone ahead of them to the Cair. Peter found the girls looking at embroidered shawls from a young girl's carriage. He approached them and bought each of them a shawl. He pulled them along without dropping his smile even once.

It wasn't until they were all safely within the walls of Cair Paravel that his sisters noticed a change.

"Peter, what's wrong?" Lucy asked. Her brother just shook his head and led them to his and Edmund's room.

They found Ed there, folded into an old lounge chair. His head was bowed and was picking at a loose thread. Peter crossed his arms and took a relaxed stance by the door. "Ed has something to tell you."

"Now?" Susan asked and looked at her younger brother. "We were right in the middle of something."

Edmund nodded and tried to dislodge the lump in his throat. "Did you tell them anything?" He asked his brother.

Peter glanced at the girls and back at Ed. "No." He turned and closed the door.

The guards outside the room glanced at their king as the door shut, but didn't speak. All Narnians knew not to make light of the situation in the castle. Lately the queens hadn't smiled as much. The kings hadn't fought as much. Silence was the predominant state around the Cair. It had been so for almost a year. But things seemed like they would change after today. The two guards felt it, one being a sensitive Wolf of Edmund's personal security detail. The other, an empathetic faun.

Edmund gestured for his siblings to sit. "Please," Only the girls complied. Lucy instantly crawled onto his bed while her big sister perched precariously on the edge. Peter stayed by the door, arms crossed. _Oh yes, this is going well already_, a voice in Ed's mind mocked. He sighed and rubbed his face, snuggling deeper into the lounge chair. "I know there's a lot I've not told you yet." Their attention perked. "The reason for that was that I wasn't sure if it was my story to tell."

"Is this about what happened last year?" Peter asked. His sharp eyes were trained on every move his little brother made. He had never seen him this fumbling.

Edmund nodded. His brother had wanted to launch a full scale search for the assassins who killed the Tisroc's soldiers, but Edmund had stopped it. He had pulled the plug before the plans were made. While it was still just an idea. "Yes," He took a deep breath.

His younger sister frowned in sympathy. "Don't be scared, Ed."

His lips ticked up in a quick smile and he actually felt a bit calmer. _A bit_. "I've told you about the memory loss, but that's only half of it."

Peter's expression darkened. Susan's as well.

Edmund felt the guilt return and looked down. This had been months in the making. "Romel- was his name. . . the man who took me in-" He didn't dare look up and so took a deep breath. "Do you remember the story about the first Irin?" Only now did he look up.

Lucy nodded and Susan frowned. Peter lowered his arms and looked more intently at his brother.

Ed drew a deep breath. "I met him. All of them," he reiterated. "The Irins, Master Tibburn told us about in history class once," His hands were shaking and his knee bouncing up and down. He decided to get up and lean against Peter's desk. Put more distance between himself and his siblings. "I didn't remember who they were before. Not until the end, right around when you found me."

Peter huffed and cut his brother off. "Wait-" He stepped further into the room. "You're saying that you've _seen_ a group of mythical humans? The Lost Guardians."

"The _Last_ Guardians. They're not lost anymore-" Ed quietly inserted. Peter's face darkened at the correction. "But yes." He nodded and waited.

"The guardians that would supposedly only return once Narnia was in Her greatest hour of need." He was approaching and becoming almost a little aggressive.

Edmund shrunk in on himself and folded his shoulders. "Peter, Aslan asked me to stay."

"What?" Lucy perked up noticeably. They hadn't seen or heard from him for years.

"I didn't recognize His voice then, but He asked me to stay. Asked me to build bridges."

"And why would he do that?" Peter asked.

Lucy was just smiling. "Well isn't it obvious?" she glanced at Peter before she turned back to Edmund. She held the attention of the three others. "He wanted you to make friends with them."

"Why?" Ed asked. He was ready to accept her explanation, but had to know the deeper meaning behind it.

"Perhaps we'll need their help someday?" she suggested.

Edmund frowned. "Or perhaps it was to help _them_," He stared into nothing. He noticed Peter frowned incomprehensively. "They were cursed. They had been exiled from Narnia by a witch and cursed with life so they could never really die."

His siblings frowned. "We already know that." Peter spoke.

Edmund nodded, but knew there was a part of the story no one knew. "Right. Only once they retook the oath they violated, could they come home – could they rest."

"If that's the case, why run from us? Why leave you on the road like trash?"

Ed shied back at his brother's tone. He had never considered the situation like that – never considered himself 'trash'.

The hurt expression on his face didn't go unnoticed by his brother. Peter quickly realized what he'd said and became remorseful, but Edmund looked away. He realized his anger towards the men who had left his brother was being transferred onto said _brother_.

"Probably because they were afraid," he whispered. It was a trait he had picked up since Tashbaan. But only under duress and only in the presence of his siblings. It seemed they were the only ones able to intimidate him.

"Ed, I'm sorry-"

"It's fine." He sighed.

"Peter, honestly." Susan rolled her eyes. She looked back at Edmund. "I thought you said they couldn't enter Narnia?"

"They were _in_ Narnia." he answered.

"It's true," Lucy agreed. "About a mile inside the border."

"Well, the new border." Ed corrected. He shared a concerned expression with his sister. She was looking worriedly at him. Her big eyes were like beacons that made everything around them seem miniscule. He hated himself for making her worry. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to tell you." He didn't dare look at his brother. "It wasn't my secret to tell and I wasn't sure how to tell you." He had found a tear in the leather on the table to pick at. A stud had come out.

"You should've told us when we found you." Susan said patiently.

"We would've followed them. Ensured their return to Narnia." Peter promised.

"I'm not sure that's what they wanted." Edmund confessed. "You have to see it from their point of view. They're not even sure if the spell is broken."

"All the more reason they should've stayed."

"Peter," Lucy calmly reprimanded. A strange mood lingered in the room. Peter still looked angry. Edmund and Susan looked like they'd rather be anywhere else at that moment. Lucy was desperately trying to make sense of it all. Her family had drifted apart this last year. Mostly due to something Edmund wasn't telling them. She knew about his memory loss. So did they all. They couldn't blame him for not coming home sooner. It wouldn't be fair to Edmund.

"This isn't about Romel, is it?" he asked Peter. He looked shyly at him. "It's because I didn't come home." He looked so sad that Lucy saddened as well. All three siblings did. Edmund was shaking, picking at his cuticles. "I'm-m sorry," he whispered. A tear dripped from his eye.

Lucy saw one drip from Susan's as well. Peter too, was crying, but his jaw was clenched so tightly she worried it'd snap. And despite her own willingness to understand, Lucy felt relieved. She had been missing _that_ – the apology – and she hadn't even known it. "Oh, Edmund."

Her sad voice made him giggle through the tears. How had she not seen this? She was supposed to know when her siblings were sad. They all thought she was the baby who needed looking after. None of them realized that she spent a great deal of time making sure _they_ were alright. She rolled out of bed and hugged him like she hadn't done in ages. Her arms around his chest and her head buried in his neck. He leaned into it with the desperation of a thirsting man, greeting a well. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin on her head. He sobbed once and she squeezed tighter. she smiled into his shirt. It was so long since either of her siblings had allowed her to hug them. Peter hugged her on occasion, but usually never allowed himself to be hugged.

Suddenly she found herself cocooned in warm bodies. Her sister leaned in and put her arm around her younger brother's shoulders. She demurely kissed his temple and rubbed circles through his thick hair. Ed leaned his temple against hers and leaned into the embrace. Peter came over as well and wrapped his strong arms around all of them. A real bear hug. The ones Lucy loved so much, but hadn't gotten in years. She was supposed to be a grownup. Supposed to cope without constantly hugging her brothers and sister. She smiled into Edmund's shirt again. It smelled like him.

Everything felt so safe. Safer than it had in years. With a stalwhart resolve she vowed she wouldn't let her siblings suffer in silence one second longer. She would stop trying to avoid the situation and remain at home. She only hoped her siblings felt the same way. Perhaps it was alright to need them just a little bit longer? She hoped they needed her as much as she needed them.

On Edmund's back, Peter's hand curled into his shirt. Ed reached out and squeezed his brother's strong arm. Only the two of them knew.

* * *

><p>Outside their room, the sun was setting in an array of brilliant colors. The Narnians, who were only now leaving the fair and returning home, looked up with a certainty. "That's Aslan, tha' is." a Hedgehog told his family. The golden rays of the sun warmed every strand of grass they touched. They turned every stone to gold and the ocean to liquid silver.<p>

The walls of Cair Paravel sparkled in the evening glow. Banners snapped in the wind and seagulls sang lullabies for tired sailors.

That night was the first night of the Spring Feast. The celebrations lasted for almost a month.

**To Be Concluded... Eventually.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I'll keep my oppinion of the ending here to myself. I want to know what you all feel about it. It's inconclusive, but that's the point. I hope you all enjoyed, and once again, thanks to the readers and reviewers. You all know how much I love you, right? :* Be well till next time.


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